


Demons

by ddelusionall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Draco has issues, Drama, First Person Harry POV, Happy Ending, Harry is perfectly patient, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lots of handjobs, M/M, Present Tense, Romance, Sexual Content, Slytherins are slags, Smut, after the war, but not the 7th book war, lots of blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: After a brutal war that no adults let alone children should have to fight, I'm almost happy. Almost. Malfoy isn't. But he won't talk about it or let me help him.





	1. Awkward Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Hex Files](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Hex_Files), which was closed for financial and health reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Hex Files collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thehexfiles/profile).

Disclaimer: The characters, places and names used in the story are property of JK Rowling and the publishers who contain full rights to monetary gain. No money or fame is garnered from writing this story.

\---

Chapter 1: Awkward Moments

I am used to darkness. It has plagued me for most of my life: Dark, dank cupboard under the stairs; dark, dank cloudiness of a concussion in various forms; the rushing darkness of passing out when you realize that you’re the only one that can save the wizarding world from a madman.

Yeah. I get darkness.

But I’ve never been in awkward darkness.

I let out a sigh.

A strange comforting sense of _at least I’m at Hogwarts_ keeps me sane. But again. I’ve never been in Hogwarts in this sort of situation. I’ve dealt with blood and death and battles, but this, sharing a room with Draco Malfoy for the foreseeable future, is very disconcerting. Which in itself is crazy because I’ve shared a room with Malfoy; I’ve slept in the same bed with Malfoy; through the war, the battles, the pain and sorrow of losing someone so important to you.

It took two years to find all the itty, bitty pieces of Voldemort and destroy them. The final battle had been intense and people died. But after the first ten or so, it became easier to deal with.

“Oh my god, Potter, please, stop sighing. Or at least put up a silencing charm. Surely, you’re capable of a spell even a first year would know.”

I snort, because it’s so like Malfoy to insult me. Merlin, we were throwing insults at each other while trying to fight off a hoard of Death Eaters.

I really don’t understand why people still hate him. Okay, so he’s an arrogant prick, but so am I. So is Ron. So is anyone that thinks they’re better than someone else. I guess Malfoy just has “arrogance” oozing from his pores.

The little food I ate at the Welcoming Feast burns in my stomach.

“Why was this a good idea?” I ask with a groan. Not him. Myself.

He answers anyway. “I don’t know. It was your idea.”

I only wanted to come home. But it’s different. Sort of like I’ve outgrown the four-post bed. Even sitting in the Great Hall was … different.

Maybe because the rivalry is gone between Malfoy and me. But then I snort again, because it’s just taken a more friendly form. A more expensive friendly form. Our first bet of the year is whoever has higher marks at the end of the year wins a hundred Galleons. 

We’ve been betting for the last two years.

_If you come back from this battle, Potter, you own me twenty Galleons._

_And if I don’t come back?_

_Well, then I still win, don’t I?_

I’m pretty sure I hexed him after that comment. It’d been our first wager. I’m sure I’ve paid him more money than he’s paid me, since I was sent out more.

“Merlin, Potter, stop thinking. I can hear the rocks in your head grinding.”

“Sod off, Ferret Face.”

“I'd rather have you suck me off, Scarhead.”

That is another thing bothering me. Lately our insults have danced on that fine line of flirting. Some of our comments have been completely sexual; but we’ve never come right out and said we were gay. I know I am. I think he is. But the thought of that conversation makes my skin crawl, and not in a pleasant way. It’s Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake.

“Well, if you insist on being annoying, we can always celebrate the start of the term the Slytherin way.”

“Get drunk and kill off first years?”

He chuckles. “Tempting, but no.” I hear clothes rustle in the dark. “Slytherin tradition. You’ll catch on quick, Potter, because even a dunderhead like you knows how to stroke one off.”

I swallow my cry of … something. It catches in my throat, sounding pained and surprised. He laughs again.

“Going to back out now, Scarhead?”

I smile, even though he can’t see it. “What is the tradition?”

“Stroke off. The first one to come has to swallow for the last man stroking.”

My skin grows hot, and I’m suddenly very hard in my pants. In this room, our own room, it means I’ll either be sucking his cock, or he will be sucking on mine. Both thoughts have me almost coming immediately.

It’s silent again. But I hear a rhythmic sound of a man stroking off in the dark.

“Cheating, Potter. We have to do this together.”

Shaking, I push my pants down my thighs. My cock lands heavy on my stomach. I touch it with a small groan, and I can almost hear his smirk in the dark.

“The rules,” he says, slightly breathless. “No slowing down, full speed ahead. No wandering hands. Not that you’d want to, because the point is to not come first, but no playing with your nipples, no fingers in your ass.”

I shiver at the image of Malfoy shoving those pale fingers into his body.

“And no talking.”

“Breaking your own rule, then.”

He snorts.

“And why no talking? Did you just make that up so I don’t turn you on so hard with my words that you come before me?”

“Please, Potter. Like you could.”

I feel myself smirk, and then say, “So it’s against the rules for me to tell you that I’m picturing you shoving fingers in your arse?”

His breath hitches, just once, but it’s enough to spur me on. “And, god, Malfoy, you’re such a slut that you don’t bother with just one at first. Two fingers, in deep, all the way. And if that’s not bad enough,” I speed up my strokes as another image feels my mind, “you’re on your knees, Malfoy, ass in the air, arm underneath you, and you don’t move your fingers. You move your body, rock back and forth, fucking your own fingers.”

“Fuck, Potter. This is cheating.”

“Tell me to stop, Malfoy. Tell me to stop describing how your pale flesh is pink with internal heat, how your eyes are shut, and your mouth open. Tongue out and licking lips that would look so good around my cock. Do you want that? Do you want me to fuck your mouth while you’re finger-fucking yourself?”

“Gods, please.”

I can feel my own orgasm threatening, so I think of something nasty, like McGonagall in knickers and it fades.

He’s whimpering, Merlin, he’s whimpering.

“What do you want, Malfoy? I’ll come in your mouth if that’s what you want. Or do you want me to fuck you into the bed?”

“Shite, Potter!”

I snicker at him in the dark. “Want my cock, you little slut? Want me to spread open your ass and shove my cock inside you?”

He absolutely keens, and then his breath jerks, and the obvious sounds of come splattering on skin fill the room.

“Fuck, Potter.”

I laugh, because I can. I’ve slowed the strokes on my cock. But it’s not until I hear movement, a whispered cleaning spell, and footsteps that I remember the game. I swallow thickly, because I have most definitely pictured exactly what I described when I had time to stroke off.

“Cheating,” he says as my bed dips.

“Self-preservation.”

“Oh really? Is that why you’re still stroking your wand instead of brandishing your wand? I could curse you right now and you—“

I snap my hand out and grab his arm and yank him on top of me. He lands against my chest with an _oof_. After a moment, he moans and rocks his hips against my body. I gasp, pull my hand off my cock and put it on his hip.

His bare hip. Naked. Fuck, he's naked.

“Stupid idea,” he mutters. “Stupid, stupid …” He slides down my body.

“Your … idea,” I say with a deep breath between. Cool fingers wrap around my length. There’s not enough light to see anything more than the impression of his pale, naked body.

I gasp, hips arching up as he strokes me.

“Bloody fuck, Potter.”

I hear the pout in his voice as his hand explores my cock. I almost hear him salivating.

“How long is this thing?” he demands as his hand curls down to my body. “It just goes on forever.”

“Are you complimenting me?”

“No way. Just … fuck, Potter.”

“Twenty-five centimeters, Malfoy. Aren’t you supposed to be sucking on it?”

He makes a desperate noise in his throat, and then the lighter blob that he forms leans over. I almost come at the first touch of his tongue around the head. I know my cock is large. Dean’s was the closest to mine, and his was only nineteen centimeters.

The pressure of his mouth is maddening, and the few nights of comparison with Seamus and Dean and the Weasley Twins are far away from this room. So many lifetimes ago.

“Gods, Malfoy. You are a little cock slut.” His throat tightens around me again, and I don’t think I want to know why he’s so good at this. Why his mouth and throat open as he takes more than half of me at once. I can’t think anyway. Thinking … it’s wet and then … fuck, his fingers cup my balls, tugging on them lightly.

“Shite, Draco, damn it.” My eyes are shut tight against the dark. A wandering hand finds its way into his short blond hair. Longer, it needs … I want to pull on it and can’t. My fingers won’t work. Pleasure zooms through me, sharp and fast. A single pad of a finger digs between my thighs, and I spread my legs further, lifting, until the finger touches my hole, pushes, lightly with the right amount of pressure at the head, and I’m screaming his name as I come in his throat.

He whimpers, moaning and works me faster. The sensations are going to kill me, I think. His throat constricts around me at the same rhythm as I come. He hums, content, and then with a final lick against my tip, he pulls away.

I sag boneless to the bed.

“You win this time, Potter. But next time, no talking.”

I smile through my gasping breath. The bed dips again. His feet patter across the floor. I frown, because part of me wanted him to stay, but I’m already half asleep from staying up too late last night, the tiring Welcome Feast and trying to ignore the way people looked at me, and now this amazing blow job and orgasm. I finally sleep, but I’m not sure if he does.

\-----

I wake up to blessed silence, again. The calm before the morning. The sky is gray in the windows. I reach for the nightstand and put on my glasses. My whole body turns red when I realize I’m still mostly naked from the night before. I glance quickly at Malfoy’s bed across the room. It’s empty, but the blankets are rumpled like he only just climbed from it. The relaxing hush of the shower fills the room.

I’ve showered with him before. But if I go in there now, will things be different? I know I’m thinking about this too much.

I make myself get up with a sigh, and almost trip over my pants where they catch on my ankle. I slept all night naked. I wonder if he sneaked a peek at me before going to shower.

I put my glasses back on the nightstand, and then move through the room to the bathroom. I don’t try to be quiet as I open the door. He didn’t lock it. That’s … a sign? Or is it? I don’t know. I use the bathroom, and then unceremoniously pull the curtain back.

At least we aren’t washing blood from our skin.

He doesn’t react. His hair is deep gold from the water. His face is right in the stream, arm on the wall for support. I wonder how long he’s been standing just like this.

I have no idea what I can or can’t do with him anymore. Last night snapped something between us. At least it did for me. Before, when I climbed in a shower with him, I’d reach for the shampoo and make snarky comments about primping himself too much.

I know better than to say anything. Malfoy is in a moment. But I’m a daring and reckless Gryffindor, so I run my hands up his wet sides, smirking as he shivers, and then move him over, put my face in the spray right next to his. His other hand reaches back and holds me by my waist.

I wonder what he’s thinking.

“If we do that again, don’t call me a slut.” His voice is low, hoarse, and missing its usual snark.

I nod, so he can feel it. I won’t ask, because I don’t want to know. He was at his father’s and Voldemort’s mercy for a very long time.

 _If we do it again, …_ I run my hand up his chest, over his stomach, feeling the muscles that I’ve touched before with healing salves. I twist a nipple lightly. He sighs and leans against me, head back. I open my mouth against his neck. He has fewer scars than I do, but some of them are worse than mine. I trace the scar I put on him, the thick slashes from a spell I should have known better than to use.

I’ve apologized for it hundreds of times. This time, I let my fingers do the apologizing.

“We’ll be late,” Malfoy suddenly says, breaking the moment.

It’s awkward as he moves by me. Two eighteen-year-old boys, alone in a shower, so close, and neither one of us are hard. The shower is cold after he leaves.

I wash quickly, because he’s right. Dallying too long means no breakfast, and I need something in my stomach since I have Divination first thing, and now that I no longer have a reason to die every week, I’m going to have to get more creative.

\----

Hermione notices the slight tension between Malfoy and me. Ron doesn’t, but he will as soon as—

Malfoy kisses my cheek, and I yelp and spill milk all over the table.

“Bloody fuck!” There is a stern reprimand from the high table and a few points taken from Griffyndor.

Malfoy leans back and smirks at me. “Thought you might need a bit of embarrassment. Your cheeks were awfully pale a moment ago, and now there’s color in them. Almost red enough to be a Weasel.”

Ron snorts, but his mouth is too full of food to snap back at him.

I glare at Malfoy. His eyebrow rises in mocking, lips turned in a smirk. My cock twitches in my jeans.

Hermione has already muttered a cleaning spell, and attention on the “eighth year” table has turned away.

“What, Potter? No response.”

“I hardly think tying you up and punishing you for your insolence would be proper in the Great Hall during lunch.”

His eyes flash with something other than our usual banter, and I realize that Malfoy is extremely fucked up when it comes to sex. I wonder if I should just—

“Ponce would like that too much,” Ron said.

Malfoy shoots him a glare. Hermione has gone very still, because Malfoy can still be vicious with his tongue (oh Merlin, don’t I know it-my cock twitches again), and he and Ron fight at least once a week.

I need to fix this. I lean on my elbow and smile at him. “Or am I to reciprocate? Pull you into my lap and snog you senseless? Would that be a better response?”

He smiles at me.

“Why don’t you two just shag and get it over with?” Ron says.

Malfoy smirks at him. “Who says we’re not?”

Ron meets my eyes.

I shake my head. “We’re not, but if we were, I doubt you’d survive the sight of Malfoy and me fucking.”

“Oh Circe's tits.” Ron presses his hands into his eyes.

"Ron," Hermione says sternly.

Malfoy laughs. “We should do it just for the entertainment of watching Ron’s reaction. Let’s go fuck on his bed right now.”

“I think your bed is next in line,” I say.

He grins. His eyes are sparkling again. He leans forward and I don’t stop him as our breath is shared. But he doesn’t kiss me, just sits there until I understand that he’s not ready yet. Not now.

“Are you going to be hard all day, Potter?” he whispers. His tongue wets his lips, and I remember that tongue on the tip of my cock. I moan and put my head on the table. He laughs and rises. His fingers linger in my hair before his footsteps fade away.

“What the hell was that about?” Ron demands.

I don’t know, so I don’t answer. My relationship with Malfoy is once again twisted and fucked up. But in a strangely pleasant way.

\---

We’re in bed again. It’s dark again. It’s awkward again.

I break the silence. “You’ve been moody today.”

Not the best opening. He’s always moody.

He snorts, but says nothing. I prop up on my elbows and try to pick him out amongst the darkness of the room. I see only a paler darkness where his head must be.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do I ever want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay, then.”

I sigh and then continue being the stupid, daring, reckless Gryffindor I am. I throw the blankets off me and move to his bed. He’s holding his breath as I slide next to him. Again, not the first time. The first time we were in a shack ("for your protection," we were told), and shivering with cold and only one blanket.

I feel the same way now, slightly confused and scared. This time he doesn’t protest when I curl up against his back, arm around his waist. He’s as naked as I am. The feel of his skin is calming.

I’m drifting off to sleep, breath puffing against his neck, the smell of his soap and cologne in my nose. He snorts, jerking me alert.

“What?” I ask groggily and push my lips against his neck.

“A single blowjob and you think you can cuddle with me?”

I smile so he can feel it. “Not necessarily, but it is my purpose in life to irritate you, Malfoy.”

“I thought you were supposed to die at the hands of the Dark Lord.”

“Hm, yeah, well, I failed to do that, didn’t I? So I need a different purpose.”

Malfoy suddenly sighs, body pressing back against mine. “How about you make me feel?”

“Feel what?”

“Anything.”

“I can do that.”

He sighs again.

I’m not sure what he wants, so I let my hand fall down his hip, slide over his body and cup his erection. I wasn’t hard until I felt him. I push against his body with a moan as I stroke him. Like this, it’s almost like I’m stroking myself. He shifts his body, and suddenly my cock is between his arse cheeks. He lifts an arm and grips my neck as I rock against him. I speed the strokes on his cock. His body arches against me. I want to see him so badly. I want to see his face and see if his eyes are shut, or if he’s worrying his lower lip.

I want to watch my hand on his cock.

But he needs the darkness. My arm is aching from the effort, but I don’t stop.

“I hate that you make me want this,” he whispers.

I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I know the things I said last night bothered him. I also don’t know what will and won’t bother him.

“You make me want this,” I reply finally, softly, lips against his ear. He shudders, and I wonder if that is wrong, but full steam ahead as always. “You’re gorgeous, Draco.”

I feel his smirk through his gasping breath.

“There are a lot of good looking blokes at this school,” I continue, “but it’s you in my dreams, in my fantasies. I think about you when I stroke off. Merlin, the last time I had sex with someone, I almost cried out your name.”

“You’ve always been so obsessed with me.”

“Can you blame me?” I lay kisses down his neck, speed up the strokes of my hand. He thrusts back into me. The spell to lube and stretch him is on the tip of my tongue when he jerks. The moan from his mouth is muffled, like he’s biting his lower lip to keep from crying something out. His cock pulses in my hand, twitches and jerks as he comes onto my hand, his stomach, the blankets.

He goes limp against me. Yes, I’m hard, and I’m definitely horny. But instead of demanding that he do something, I whisper a wandless cleaning spell, and then hold him closer, wrap him up in all my limbs. He’s shaking. I don’t make the scathing comment about emotions that I'm sure he would have made in a different situation.

\--

I wake up to heat around my cock and a groan on my lips.

“D-draaacooo.”

He chuckles and the vibrations shoot around me with pleasure. I’m so close to coming. I throw one hand over my face, blocking out the light. The other lands in his hair. He stiffens minutely. But it’s enough and I pull my hand away, to his shoulder, fingertips caressing his collarbones and arms. He doubles his efforts, taking most of my cock down his throat.

“Fuck, Malfoy!” White splatters behind my eyes, spots of color form, and then again everything is blessedly dark for a moment as I come in his mouth.

I fall back to the bed with a whimper.

Lips press against my chest before Malfoy moves away. “You’re going to be late for Potions.”

I sit up quickly with a muttered curse. Malfoy laughs, his body disappearing from the room. A wandless spell falls from my lips and damn it, the bastard let me sleep in on purpose. I scramble from the bed, and even though I shower as fast as I can, and practically Apparate to the dungeons and I’m still seven minutes late, and Gryffindor is docked ten points and Malfoy is snickering behind his hand with Pansy Parkinson, and things are right in the world for a moment.

\-------

The “eighth years” have their own wing of rooms. Their own common room. No one was really surprised when I was paired up with Malfoy. Ron thought it unfair, of course, but Hermione pointed out that anyone else would probably kill Malfoy out of pure frustration. Except for me. Since we’d become buddies and all that.

Before the start of the term, I would not have called us friends. But two blow jobs, two wanks, whatever we did the last two nights. Are we friends now? I’m not sure.

He’s practically sitting in my lap, though. We’re in the chair right in front of the warm fire. I’m stretched out with a Defense Against the Dark Arts book open on my chest. I gave up reading it long ago. He’s sitting sideways, using my body as a back rest. His long legs are crossed, over the arm of the couch. Even though it is past nine, he’s still wearing trousers and a silk shirt. He shifts every now and then, settling deeper into my body. I lean my head against the back of the couch.

“Can I move my arm?” I ask, giving it a wiggle. Tingles shoot up my arm.

“Couches do not talk,” he says.

“Yes, they do, but only psychos talk back.”

I know he’s smiling as he leans forward. I pull my arm out from behind him, only to lay it over him, diagonally across his chest, until my hand is at his hip. My fingers find belt loops easily. He readjusts. I listen to him turn pages, feel each of his breaths.

“Blimey! Malfoy and Potter are cuddling.”

I open an eye and smile up at Seamus. “I am his couch.”

“Couches don’t talk,” Malfoy says again and digs his elbow into my side, making me wince.

“Are you his bitch, Harry?” Dean asks.

Malfoy goes very, very still. The others don’t notice. Hell, I barely notice.

“No,” I say, feeling him relax. “I’m his couch.”

“And said couch is going to get beat if he keeps disrupting my study session.”

I tighten my hand at his hip. I turn my head and whisper, “Maybe I want to get beat off.”

Dean and Seamus laugh.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Juvenile. I should have known a couch would be stupid, too. Ah, someone of my own intellect. Granger, please save me from the odious masses.” Graciously, he rises from the couch, leaving me cold. I frown after him. He and Hermione settle at a table and discuss the Arithmancy problem Malfoy had been studying.

“Game of chess?” Ron says.

I smile and nod and turn away from Malfoy. It’s hard for me not to stare at him when we're in the same room.

I suddenly want our darkness.

We sleep in our own beds that night. I go to bed long before he does. He and Hermione are talking about something or other. I wake up before he does. I frown at his sleeping figure wondering why he did not crawl in bed with me.

I don’t want to be his security blanket. I don’t want to be something he uses when he needs me. But I want him next to me.

I turn away.

“Creeper,” he mutters.

And I laugh. I have time for a long shower thankfully, but it’s an interrupted shower. Malfoy’s cool skin molds against mine. His chin rests on my shoulder as the water rolls over us. He’s always been taller than me. 

“You are incredibly dense, Potter. But strangely perfect in your own way. Your thought processes are almost Slytherin.”

I chuckle. “Closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me.”

“You have a wonderful cock.”

I laugh hard enough that I have to lean on him so I don’t fall over. “Oh, man, now the next time Hermione asks me what the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me was, I’m going to have to tell her that.”

“Don’t you dare. She may leave Weasel for you.”

I shiver.

He laughs. “Full on gay, huh? No bisexuality in you?”

“Nope. Shirt lifter, cock sucker, fudge packer--”

His lips press against my back. “Get out of the water. I’m cold.”

I spin us around, his arms stay around me. He moans from the heat. We stay in the shower for a lot longer than we should. He washes my hair. By the time we’re dressed, we have to skip breakfast to make it on time to class.

\------

It’s a routine now. Sort of. I never know when he’ll slip into bed with me. When I’ll stroke him off. When he’ll suck me off. But the anticipation of it is enough to make me hope that maybe Malfoy does feel something more for me than no-longer-sworn-enemies-and-now-sometimes-stroke-off-buddies.

It’s the first week in October when he shows me that it is indeed so much more.

Saturday morning, I wake up with him in my arms. He’d been in his own bed when I fell asleep. He trails his fingers over my chest, tracing the scars.

I catch his hand and bring it to my mouth, licking his fingertips. He shivers only once, and then that Malfoy masks drops into place.

“Good morning, Draco,” I whisper and pull him closer to me.

I sense more than see him roll his eyes, but he cuddles immediately.

There is a storm raging out the windows. Lightning, rain. Wind whistles and shakes the windows. I don’t care what time it is. I lift my hand and douse the light he’d probably lit earlier, turning our world gray. And then as an afterthought, I Summon his blanket to us.

“Better,” I whisper as it settles over our heads.

“Much,” he returns. I’m stunned for a moment that he did not reply sarcastically.

His fingers find my chest again. I fall asleep again.

I wake up slowly, comfortable, Malfoy still in my arms. A paper crane flutters in the room and I reach my hand for it.

A note from Hermione. She’d been worried, and peeked in, and swears she saw nothing, and should we really be sleeping together?

I smile and show the note to Malfoy. He grins. “We need to have a shag in the common room when everyone is there. Get them used to the idea.”

“I think we need to have a shag and get used to the idea,” I reply.

He smiles. “And ruin such a wonderful thing?”

I don’t know what he means, but then his lips are pressed against mine, and I don’t really care what he means. He sighs quietly, and then pulls away just as I’m getting into the kiss. I moan and try to pull him back.

He grins and pecks me on my nose. I freeze, meet his eyes and then laugh. “Did you just kiss my nose?”

“No, Potter, I did not.” His cheeks are pink and he isn’t looking at me. “Only girls with minds and eyes full of stars and puppy love would kiss someone on the nose.”

I laugh and yank him back to my lips. He’s an amazing kisser. Again, I think of all his experience, all his … lovers? I can’t quite call them that, can I? Rapists is closer anyway. I had been there when Snape brought him to the Order. Broken, sullied, bleeding from everywhere. Only Remus and I had been there, so we had to hold Malfoy down while Snape carefully repaired his broken body.

The next day when I asked if Malfoy wanted to talk about it, he said, “No. I’m used to it.” And then refused to talk to me for almost two months.

That was not something that someone should have to get used to.

I’m angry all over again. At him. At his father. At Voldemort. I take it out on his lips and he grunts in surprise at my sudden aggression.

I’m mad at him too, because he doesn’t fucking tell me anything. I push him over, and he falls to his back willingly. My mouth covers his chest and stomach, not the simple touches of the last few nights, but angry and cold. How dare they touch him, hurt him, abuse him? They did not know what they had, who they had. To me, Malfoy is more than just the most beautiful being on the planet. He grounds me, keeps me sane, keeps me from turning into an egoist maniac. If an article is published, lauding my fame, Malfoy is there to knock me down a peg or two. Or twenty-seven. If a first year asks for an autograph or a picture, Malfoy makes sure he is in it too, because more than just Harry Potter fought in the war.

I love him for it.

His body is still under me. Except for his rapidly rising chest.

I pull away and watch as all the marks I made bloom purple. I don’t remember making most of them.

His eyes are cold, empty. Fists clenched at his sides. I have again, unwittingly released his inner demons.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” I whisper. He flinches when I touch his cheek. But I touch him anyway. Run my hand over his cheek until he’s shaking, and then crying. The last time I saw him cry is when they dumped his mother’s body at our doorstep.

He refused to let me touch him then. I’m not stupid enough to leave him now.

“Fuck, Draco,” I say and gather him up in my arms. “I’m so sorry. I … I …”

“What do you think about when you do that to me?” he whispers.

I shut my eyes tightly. “I think of what they did to you. And it makes me so angry.”

His shaking subsides after long minutes. It’s another few minutes before he talks. “I’m hungry. Go get me something to eat.”

I open my mouth to tell him to go get his own food. But his eyes are bloodshot and tear-streaked, and I have this sudden inspiration that he wants to be alone. Not forever, but just a few minutes.

“I know those house-elves love you,” he continues. “I want chocolate cake.”

I press a kiss to his lips, choke back a love confession I’m not sure I mean, and then slip out of bed. His hand stays on my back until I step away. I dress in jeans and a t-shirt. The invisibility cloak is in the bottom of my trunk. I don’t need it, but I don’t really feel like talking to anyone. As soon as I disappear, Malfoy says, “It’s easier to say this when I can’t see you, but thank you, Harry.”

I stand, mouth open. He has never, ever called me Harry.

“Merlin, you ponce. Get out of here.” He curls away, back to me. There are scars there too. Old scars that I don’t know about.

I leave the room and head to the kitchens, wondering about the man I’m falling in love with.


	2. Awkward Moments

Disclaimer: The characters, places and names used in the story are property of JK Rowling and the publishers who contain full rights to monetary gain. No money or fame is garnered from writing this story.

\---

Chapter 2: Painful Moments

The eighth years aren’t allowed to play Quidditch this year, since we’re all stronger and more magical than the rest of the school, fair play and all that, but the majority of us go to every match. Our wagers no longer involve money. Blow jobs are the currency of choice. And I’m on my knees a lot for Malfoy.

_“I bet he drops the Quaffle before I’m even done talking—oh, look. I win.”_

They’re all very stupid bets, but I cherish those times with Malfoy. He laughs and smiles and forgets about his worries during Quidditch matches.

He doesn’t kiss me again until after Halloween. We’ve taken to staying in bed all day on Saturdays, only venturing out to get food. We shuffle under the cloak together, giggling when we should be quiet. Malfoy thinks it’s hilarious to deepen his voice and scare third years walking in the hallway.

The Saturday after Halloween, as we’re huddled under our blankets while a snowstorm turns the windows white, he’s eating warm brownies with his fingers. Licking off the frosting. Moaning. Turning me on like crazy. I want to snap and drop and devour him.

“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know and I’ll give you a taste,” he says.

“A taste of what?” I ask, voice low, rumbling.

He smirks. “Of the brownie, you pervert.”

I prop up on an elbow and smile. “I was almost Sorted into Slytherin.”

He chokes on the brownie. “What?”

I nod. “You can’t tell anyone. Not even Ron and Hermione know that.”

He looks at me, face passive and thoughtful. “Explain. Now.”

I watch his face as I say, “You’re the second wizard I ever met, did you know that?”

He shakes his head once. “After Hagrid,” I continue. My throat closes up thinking of Hagrid’s dead body. “I had only known I was a wizard for less than a day. One of the first things you did is insult Hagrid, and to me, Hagrid was my savior because he took me away from my aunt and uncle.”

Malfoy knows about them, about that part of my childhood. It’s an unspoken rule between us. He doesn’t ask about them, I don’t ask about his childhood.

“And then I met Ron on the train. And then of course, you had to go and insult him, too.” I sigh. “I was eleven years old, Malfoy. Eleven and stupid.”

He opens his mouth, but I shove a chunk of brownie into it. “I am aware of my current lack of intelligence, thank you.”

He smiles, licking my fingers as he swallows the brownie.

I shiver. “A- After that, during the Sorting, I was terrified to go to Slytherin once you’d been put there. So while that hat was on my head, I thought ‘not Slytherin’ over and over. I can still hear that damn voice whispering at me that I could do great things in Slytherin, that I was well suited for it. That I had the ambition and the cunning, but I … I didn’t want to. So he put me in Gryffindor.”

“That is the craziest bunch of shit I ever heard. Telling the Sorting Hat where to put you? Harry Potter in Slytherin?”

“Think I would have stayed alive?” I ask.

Our eyes meet. I see that he believes me. “No.” He’s more than serious. “I almost didn’t, if you’ll remember. And with the way mischief follows you around, you wouldn’t have survived your first school year.”

“I still almost didn't."

He looks at me like he wants to ask, and then he doesn't.

"It would have been nice to be friends with you during school, though,” I muse, looking at the shadowed top of the bed. “We spent way too much time fighting with each other.”

He crawls over me. A piece of brownie touches my lip, and I open my mouth to the morsel. His fingers linger. Our eyes lock as I suck one into my mouth. He shivers, eyes widening slightly, breath speeding up. I put my hands on his hips and rock him back and forth gently on my erection.

He moans, hands dropping to my chest, clenching, gripping the thin material of my t-shirt.

We’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

His eyes shut in irritation, and then he demands, “What is it?”

Professor McGonagall’s voice rings through the room telling us to come to the common room. It’s an instant cock-softener. I sigh, and he sighs, but before he climbs off me, he presses his lips to mine. He tastes like chocolate.

“Time out, Mister Potter,” he says with a smile, and then he slides off me. I’m breathless and can barely move. He dresses nicely, in gray trousers and a vibrant green shirt. He snorts at me as I slip ratty jeans over my boxers. He’s stopped declaring my wardrobe impossible, since it no longer gets a reaction from me.

I want to take his hand as we walk out of the room. McGonagall is there, as is Professor Sprout, Professor Vector and the new Potions master and new Head of Slytherin House Professor Genderat. He isn't nearly as intimidating as Snape was, but he's more effective.

Heads of the Houses. Everything is tense. All the eighth years are there.

Just when I stopped worrying.

“We feel that it is best that you learn of this tonight rather than in the morning," Professor McGonagall says. I am grateful for your sake that it is a Saturday and you will not have classes tomorrow, but if you wish to skip them on Monday, you may.”

I swallow. Malfoy suddenly grabs my hand as McGonagall’s eyes focus on the two of us.

“Mister Malfoy, your father has been found.”

He stills completely, hand tightening around mine. Hermione and a few other girls gasp.

“It will be headline news in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow. He’s sentenced to be Kissed Monday morning. His last request was to talk to you.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Malfoy so pale.

“You have no obligation to go.”

“I will,” he says, immediately. I want to protest, but I don’t.

Hermione does. Pansy does. Even Ron says, “What the bugger for?” and McGonagall docks ten points from Gryffindor.

She looks at Malfoy’s determined face and then nods. “I will arrange it and have word to you by dinner.” Her next comment is to everyone else. “I am telling all of you this because you have all had someone hurt by Lucius Malfoy. Please do not take this out on the man’s son. We are past petty rivalries and hatreds. Young Malfoy proved himself in battle at my side and by the side of Harry Potter on a daily basis. We expect you, as eighth years, to provide an example to the rest of the school, and to protect Young Malfoy from the worst of the curses that will most likely be sent his way.”

I stop listening and concentrate on Malfoy. I put my face at his neck. A flinch is the only reaction. Lucius Malfoy had disappeared just before I knocked off the raging madman. No one knew where he went. It’d been over eight months.

I am vaguely aware of the teachers leaving. And then all eyes turn to us, but I don’t think Malfoy notices.

A glass is shoved in front of Malfoy’s face. He jerks and looks up at Seamus.

“Here, mate,” Seamus says. “You look like you need it.”

Malfoy swallows and takes the shot glass with a shaking hand. The firewhisky is smoking. He knocks it back. “Th-thanks … thanks, S-sea-Finnigan.”

Seamus grins at the almost slip. “No problem, mate. You want another?”

“N-no.” He is suddenly aware of all eyes on him. “I … I need … alone. For … yeah …”

Malfoy is never at a loss for words. He stands up, but he does not let go of my hand, so I assume I am not included in the “alone” thing. He leads me back to our room, and I look back and see my classmates troubled eyes just before the door shuts behind us.

His back is convulsing, his whole body shaking. I throw up a silencing charm just before he screams and falls to his knees. I’m behind him in a moment, but he throws off my hand on his back with another cry.

A few years ago I would have relished in the sight of Draco Malfoy broken.

He crawls toward the bathroom, but his back arches and I know he’s not going to make it. I move to him quickly and Transfigure one of my trainers into a trash can. He grips it and throws up. I wince at the sound. He throws up again, and then again, until he’s shivering, arms wrapped tightly around the garbage can. I draw my wand and with a quick swish, Banish the mess. He looks up at me, eyes full of fear.

“Please, don’t, please, I’m sorry, I … can’t … won’t be weak. I won’t be …”

His eyes are wide, panicked and trained on my wand.

I frown down at him.

“I’ll be better, please, I promise. I’ll, please don’t, please-”

I hastily put my wand away and fall to my knees next to him. “Draco.”

He shies away from me with a whimper as I reach for him.

“Draco, it’s Harry. Come on,” I say, whispering. I touch his knee. He tries to jerk away. I move closer. “Draco, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I won’t-I could never hurt you.”

He snorts in disdain, and then shivers with another whimper, curling up more tightly. He’s muttering again, but it’s muffled against his legs. He doesn’t jerk away when I touch him. I keep whispering and telling him where we are, who I am, that I won’t hurt him. It takes a few minutes, and then he lets me hold him. He cries into my shirt, gripping me so tightly that I’m sure there will be bruises on my legs.

“I was free of him. Free! Why, why did he … fuck him!”

I try to soothe his hair as he mutters.

I whisper a levitation spell and his weight lightens. I pick him up and carry him to the bed. He’s shaking so hard. I put him to bed, and then very carefully pull out my wand. I Summon a Calming Draught from the bathroom. It takes lots of coaxing for Draco to trust me that it’s not poison and he should drink it.

The effect is not instantaneous, but it works. His breathing slows. His tears cease. His body relaxes. With puffy eyes, he looks up at me. "H-harry?”

I nuzzle the side of his face and kiss a tear from his cheek.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you—“

“Come with me.”

I agree without thinking; it won’t be the first time I’ve stood by Draco when he was falling apart.

\---

“We want to come with,” Hermione says the next morning.

Malfoy and I are ready to go, but Hermione stands by the door, arms crossed. Ron sulks next to her. He looks like he was roped into volunteering to go. He definitely doesn’t want to.

Malfoy’s eyebrow rises and he looks at me.

“Don’t look at me,” I say.

“Look, Granger,” Malfoy says, making sure to drawl the name as much as he can. “It’ll be a quick visit. A quick, hello Father, thank you for fucking me over. And then we’ll be gone.”

“You need all the friends—“

Malfoy snorts.

Ron finally speaks, “Forget about it, ‘Mione. He’s a bastard, just like his—“

I draw my wand and point it at him.

Hermione and Ron are stunned.

“Just like what, Ron?” I ask, voice low.

Ron swallows. “Just like … just like … he’s always been.”

I narrow my eyes.

Malfoy touches my arm, and I lower my wand. “You Gryffindorks are always so dramatic. Please, Granger, I do appreciate the sentiment, but Potter and I will be fine. Surrounded by Aurors, and he’ll be in an enclosed room with wards. And it’s not like you’ll be able to hurt him.”

Hermione takes a deep breath.

“I know that he killed Longbottom, and the Patil twins. And not to mention the curse he threw at Charlie Weasley, but you won’t be able to hurt him. McGonagall doesn’t even think Potter will be allowed in the room with me.”

That is a total lie. The Headmistress said he would not be allowed to go in alone.

“Why are you going with him, Harry?” Ron asks.

I meet Malfoy’s eyes. There are lots of reasons, but I don’t want to give him the real one, because it scares the shite out of me.

“He asked me to,” I finally say.

Malfoy tilts his head, and then smiles. “Well played, Potter.”

I’m not sure what that means, but I’m learning that it’s hard to hide anything from Malfoy. There is heat on my cheeks as I turn to Hermione. “We’ll be all right, guys.”

Hermione wants to protest again. I can tell. But she bites her lip and nods. She nudges Ron, and Ron shuts his eyes, then says, “Sorry, Malfoy about … yeah.” He turns around and heads across the common room to the room he shares with Dean and Seamus.

To my surprise, Hermione kisses my cheek, and then hugs Malfoy.

Malfoy freezes.

“Do be careful, Draco, please.”

Awkwardly, he pats her shoulder. “I will.”

It’s like she suddenly remembers that it’s Malfoy she’s hugging. She jerks away, blushes and then hurries away from us.

Malfoy’s face scrunches in a snarl. I’m trying not to laugh.

“I just … may have to change my clothes … Gryffindor … “

“Malfoy,” I say in warning.

“I … ew.” His whole body shivers, and then he strides by me. “Gryffindors. Seriously.”

I laugh and bounce after him, walking around him, next to him, smiling and pointing, “A Gryffindor hugged you. Your friends are Gryffindors.”

“Do be mature, Potter,” he snaps at me.

“How the mighty have fallen.”

He snarls at me, and then in the next moment, my breath is gone as he slams me up against a wall, wand under my chin.

“Don’t say that,” he snarls, and it’s five years ago, and we’re thirteen again. His eyes flash with hatred and vileness. Then he blinks, shakes his head and puts his head on my shoulder. His wand arm drops to his side. I cautiously put my arm around his body.

“Sorry, Harry,” he whispers.

I know better than to ask.

Malfoy presses a kiss to my neck, and then pulls away. I watch him walk, statue straight, perfectly Slytherin again. I smile as a couple of second years flatten themselves to the wall as he strides past.

“Arrogant snake,” I say.

“Randy lion,” he shoots back.

\---

Lucius Malfoy is being held in the dungeons of the Ministry. Four Aurors, plus Headmistress McGonagall, escort us down. Malfoy becomes more withdrawn, more Lucius Malfoy’s son with every step.

Part of me wishes I had been trained in Slytherin for this one trait: complete and utter boredom when your insides are raging. I jump like every step I take is the one that will cause the ground to crack and we’ll fall to our deaths.

We are stopped at a door. The Aurors go in. There are security spells already on the door, and the Aurors cast extra ones, and then we are ushered in.

Lucius is standing. He wears gray prison robes. His hair is long, past his shoulders. It’s dirty, but tamed, slicked back. The only difference between this Malfoy and the one I faced on the battle field is the gauntness to his face. He’s lost a lot of weight over his months in hiding.

Malfoy’s presence is cold next to me.

“Son.”

“Malfoy.”

Lucius scowls. “You will address me properly.”

I can’t believe my ears. The man is in prison and about to die, and he’s still being an arrogant prick.

Draco smiles. “Fine then. Death Eater. Or do you prefer convict, murderer, rapist--”

“That is enough, young man.”

“You wished to see me. I am here. What do you want?”

“I thought you would beg my case, but seeing who you came in with, I’d rather curry favor from the Dementors.”

“You deserve worse than a Dementor’s Kiss,” Draco says. “My only regret in life is that I am not going to be the one to kill you.”

Draco’s hand is shaking. I fight the urge to take it.

“How the mighty have fallen.”

I stiffen and shoot a gaze at Draco. I will never, ever say that to him again.

“Says the man who stands in prison.”

“Yes, I am here, but I have not forgotten Malfoy pride, boy.”

“Pride? Malfoy pride did nothing more than beat, rape and shame me.”

“It is better to receive a Kiss, than grovel at their feet.”

“I never groveled, Malfoy. I have never kneeled and kissed the hems of their robes. I have never called them Master.”

“My last duty as the head of Malfoy Estate is to strike your name from its records.”

A cruel smile curls Draco’s lips. “You will find, that the Malfoy Estate has been properly cared for. You have been gone for eight months. Legal authority was transferred to me after six. The Manor now houses children whose parents were killed in the war. They are funded by the Malfoy Family Vault at Gringotts, with substantial contributions from Harry Potter. You will die a poor man with nothing more than your name and your vicious pride.”

Lucius is beyond angry, but he does not retort in anyway.

Draco turns his back on him and gestures to the Aurors to escort them out. He smiles, glances at me, and then says, “Oh, one more thing.” He smirks at his father. “The name you so arrogantly call in the name of pride will die with me. I will have no sons and bear no children. I will not curse another generation to live as a Malfoy. The punishment of sharing your name will go with me, and I will bear it because of what I did before I saw how foolish you were.”

He looks at me, I look back. His gaze flicks to my lips. He’s asking permission. We didn’t discuss this. And then I realize it is the ultimate insult to Lucius Malfoy. I smirk at Draco.

“When I was eleven,” Draco said, voice whispering, but filling the chamber, “you wanted me to be friends with Harry Potter.”

He holds out his hand. I take it and then he steps into me. I feel the tight control running through his body. Our lips touch. Lucius runs at the barrier, hurling curses at us. The barrier hisses and throws him back.

Draco pulls away from my lips slowly. His eyes open. Sad, close to tears, but so strong. I touch his cheek. Neither of us looks at the raging madman as we turn and leave the room.

\--

Malfoy--no, Draco. He no longer wishes to be a Malfoy. Draco says nothing to me. He’s in a moment. Hands clasp behind his back. Swishing through witches and wizards who scramble to get out of his way.

McGonagall seems to understand and follows after him. I trail after her. It’s a quick trip to the Ministry Atrium, a quick Floo, and then we’re back in the Headmistress’s office.

Draco heads right to the door.

“Draco,” McGonagall says.

Draco stops. Surprised. I smile because McGonagall came up with the same conclusion I did.

“It is all right if you wish to take a day off from classes tomorrow.”

Draco turns his head, just a fraction. “Thank you, Headmistress, but that will not be necessary.”

He leaves, and as I go after him, she says, “Please take care of him, Harry.”

“I will,” I reply. I catch up to him in the middle of a staircase. He bypasses the hallway that leads to our dorms. I follow him as we climb more staircases, and more, all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. I think back on the day we released Norbert, and then the night Draco and I served detention with Hagrid in the forest. It felt like lifetimes ago.

Draco pushes open the door. The wind blows cold around us, throwing our cloaks up and away from our bodies for a moment. He barely stops to fasten the buttons, and then walks across the stones covered in blowing snow. Neither of us have scarves or hats. I grit my teeth and go after him. His head is lowered, hands clenched around the edge of the railing.

There is a worse memory here, for both of us. Draco’s chance at being saved sooner. Squandered by a meddling old man, and a delusional mother.

He is crying again. It’s too cold not to hold him, but when I lift my arm, he growls, “Don’t touch me.” I put my arm down.

“I-I just …” He shivers and cries out, swiping gathered snow with his bare hands. He turns, puts his face in his hands and drops to the ground. I sit next to him. The outer-wall provides some protection from the wind.

He lowers his hands to his knees. He’s trembling. “When … when I left that night, with Snape … it, it wasn’t the worst they ever did to me, but it was close. He … he’d almost kill me, then heal me and use me all over again, for days and days as a punishment for failing. I—“ He breaks off and pushes snow off the tower with an angry noise. “Why… why are you …?” He meets my eyes for a moment and then looks away.

“Why am I what? Perfect?” I ask. “Why am I gorgeous? Talented? So well-endowed?”

He smiles and leans toward me, and this time lets me put my arm around him. “Why are you with me?” he whispers into my neck. “My life is an utter mess.”

I laugh. “Your life is a mess? Shall we compare?”

He snorts and then says, “I guess we’re both pretty fucked up.”

After a few minutes, I decide to tell him one of the reasons why I understand him. “I know it’s not the same, but when I was eight, one of my uncle’s friends molested me. It wasn’t much, touching, kissing, it wasn’t penetration or anything. But it made me feel sick and dirty, and for a long time, I believed my aunt and uncle’s shite about me being a piece of filth.”

“It’s not the same,” Draco says, “but thank you for telling me.” His arms snake around my waist. We hold each other in the snow, his head tucked under my chin. “Can I tell you my deepest secret, Harry?”

“Yes.”

“I liked it.”

I don’t need to ask what ‘it’ is.

“It felt so good, so, so good. The pain can be more exquisite than the pleasure. But to be told you’re beautiful one minute, and then an ungrateful slut the next, it-it’s hard for me, to do anything.” He takes a very deep breath. “O-our first night, I—I fell back into that place. I don’t want to be there, Harry. Ever again. But it’s right there, all the time, and I don’t know how to stop it from being right there all the time. I want you, Merlin, I do. You must be so frustrated with me.”

I push him away only far enough to meet his eyes. Fat snowflakes fall around us. I press a kiss to his cold lips. “Frustrated, yes, but not for what you think. There are times when you’re so open, and laughing and touching me, and then a moment later, your face is closed, and hard and smirking. I hate the Malfoy mask, Draco. I hate it. You pull away, but then you don’t explain. I need you to explain so I won’t make the same mistake again.” I brush a mix of melting snow and tears from his cheeks. “I will … help you, I guess. Merlin, that sounds weird.”

He laughs. “So noble, Potter.”

I press a kiss to his mouth. “Harry. If I am no longer going to call you Malfoy, you have to call me Harry.”

His smile is wide and genuine. We kiss again, and then shiver from the cold.

“Let’s go take a very long, very hot shower,” I suggest.

He smirks at me before standing up. He offers me his hand, and I’m transported eight years in the past. I wonder what would have happened if I had taken his hand then.

I take his hand now, and end up with a face full of snow, compliments of his other hand. I shout and sputter and jolt after him, grabbing his robes. He laughs as we topple to the stone, grappling and shoving snow into each others clothes.

When we finally arrive back in the common room, everyone is waiting for us. Hermione smiles when she sees Draco smiling.

“Draco, what have you done to your clothes?” Pansy demands.

Draco leers at me. “Harry made me wet.”

There’s a collective groan around the room. I shove Draco in the arm. “Prat tackled me in the snow,” I say. “We’re going to go get warm and then we’ll be right down.”

Seamus, Dean, Justin and Ernie all wolf whistle at us as we go into our room.

Draco makes a face at his silk shirt. “It’s ruined.”

“You have more.”

He slips it from his shoulders and shivers. I watch him strip.

“You’ll flood the place from drooling, Scarhead.”

“Your fault for being bloody gorgeous, Ferret.”

He throws a smirk over his shoulder and saunters into the bathroom, pale ass teasing me. I rub my hands on my face and then hurry and strip to join him. He’s quiet in the shower, but strangely attentive, running fingertips down my spine, or kissing my neck and shoulders. I return the light touches and wash his hair. I want it long, but seeing Lucius, I understand why Draco keeps it short. He looks less like his father with it short.

His arms slink around my waist, pulling me close. Our kiss is long, but light, a brush of lips, a look. He smiles, almost shy and then smirks, covering the emotion in his face.

“Come on, Golden Boy,” he says and shuts the water off. “Your subjects await.”

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t bother with a towel, and a gust of wind hits me from his drying charm. I’m cold again.

“Prick,” I say, teeth chattering.

His smirk is devilish. “Oh, are you cold again? Poor Potter.”

I open my mouth to tell him not to call me that, and it dies as he kisses me, harshly. It’s more demanding than any kiss he’s ever given me. My cock is hard in only a moment, pressed against his body. He hums in appreciation and then wraps his hand around it. So light, so gentle. I want him to take all his built up emotion and abuse my cock with his mouth.

I think only for a moment of not saying that, and then whisper, breathy and unsteady as his hand slowly moves over me. “You know, Draco. If you need—“

His hand grips and I see his eyes darken, so I talk faster. “—a way to deal with this, you can take it out on my cock.”

He smirks, and then laughs. “At least you didn’t say I had to talk about it.”

“Talking about it never fixes anything,” I reply.

He sobers suddenly and nods. “No. Sometimes it makes it worse.”

I’ve said something wrong again, but he’s still next to me, still touching me. He leans in and presses a kiss to my pliant mouth. “Come on. We should get out there.”

I whimper in need and disbelief.

He smirks. “Okay. I bet Finnigan will make a comment about your lack of longevity. Granger will frown at him, and the Weasel will make a disgusted face when Thomas says something about how if anyone knows about you in bed, it’s Finnigan. Pansy will titter at me and try to groom me in some way or another, and Macmillan is going to look at you like you’re Christmas come early because all you’re going to wear out there is a pair of sweatpants and a tank-top. If all of that does not happen, then I will most definitely take my frustrations out on your cock.”

“If it does happen?”

Draco smirks. “You mean, when it does happen?”

“Fine. When it does happen, then what?”

“Oh, you’ll still get a blow job, but we’ll do it in the common room. Under your cloak.”

I swallow, eyes wide. “W-what? You’re crazy.”

“Are you conceding the bet?”

I stare at him. The thought of getting sucked on surrounded by everyone else is … oh, fuck. It’s exhilarating. He smirks when my cock twitches.

He turns from me and leaves the bathroom. Slightly shaking, I follow him. He bends over his trunk. I lick my lips. He takes a piece of parchment, and then his wand and repeats the bet. It appears on the parchment as soon as he’s done saying it. He shoots the parchment at me, but I’m looking at his body and it hits me in the face.

He laughs. “Oh, god. I wish you had wanted me when we were playing Quidditch. I would have won every match.”

I smirk. “Can’t win just from talent,” I say and he sticks his tongue out at me.

I read through the bet and see the loophole immediately. I have to wear sweatpants and a tank top. If I don’t, he loses. When I meet his eyes, he’s smirking. He knows I see it. I move past him, making sure my hand grazes his half hard cock. He shivers. I put the parchment on my bed and then dress in sweatpants and a tank top.

His eyes flash with a victory, and then he spins away from me. He dresses in nice jeans and polo shirt. He whispers a customary grooming spell that spikes his hair and Glamours the circles under his eyes.

“You’re beautiful without that spell,” I say. It’s not the first I’ve said it.

“Why settle for beautiful when you can be perfect?”

“Why settle for me when you can have—“ I break off when he smiles.

“Your cock is perfect, Potter.”

“And rest of me?”

His eyes rove over my bare body. “Not bad for a Griffyndork. Shall we?”

“No. Let’s stay here and fuck.”

“Then you lose, Potter.”

“I don’t think getting to spend the day in bed with you would be losing, Draco.” I emphasize his first name.

His smile falters just a small amount, and then he turns and heads for the door. I reach it the same time he does and put my arm around his waist, and press a kiss to his neck as he opens the door. I know he’s smiling when the others catch sight of us, and I’m glad, because they need to see that Draco is okay.

“That was quick, Harry,” Seamus says. “Even for you.”

Hermione frowns at him, and then at a laughing Dean.

“Well, you’re the expert on Harry’s abilities of longevity,” Dean says.

“Shut up,” Ron almost shouts, face red. “I do not need that image in my brain.”

Pansy shuffles to us and starts tugging at Draco’s shirt. “Really, Potter. Let him go.”

I smile, and then roll my eyes at Draco. I kiss his cheek, ignore Pansy’s prattling and turn to the rest of the room. Ernie Macmillan is leering at me.

I smile at Draco. He smiles back, and says, “Griffyndorks, the lot of you.”

Ron looks like he’s going to take offense, but Hermione gives him a look, and I sit on the couch next to Seamus. He’s immediately straddling my lap.

“I think we have time for a go before Parkinson is done grooming your snake,” he says, and runs his hands over my bare shoulders.

“Finnigan, don’t make me curse your snake to impotency,” Draco says.

Seamus laughs, kisses my cheek and then falls over into Dean’s lap.

“Pansy, seriously, I don’t need to be immaculate for the present gaggle of lions.”

“It’s a pride, Draco,” Hermione says. “A gaggle of geese, and a pride of li—”

“Of Griffyndorks, yes. I know. My apologies.”

Hermione smiles and then frowns. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Draco meets her eyes, sighs and then joins us on the couch that is definitely too small for four eighteen-year-olds. He curls up in my lap.

“No,” he says, startling more than just me. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Of course not,” Hermione says. “But we’re here for you, all right?”

“Well, I’m going to talk about it,” I say. Draco stiffens, but I don’t remove my arms from around his waist. The others turn their attention to me. “What was said isn’t as important as what happens now. First, we stop calling him Malfoy.” I see Ron’s mouth open in protest.

Draco must sense it because he says, “I don’t care if you call me Ferret instead, just …” He shivers.

“Not going to say no to that invitation, Ferret,” Ron says.

“Still going to call you a Weasel,” he retorts.

“And second, well, you heard McGonagall, right? People are going to hex him.”

“I can take care of—”

I jerk my leg up and he breaks off with a gasp. “And third, someone decided to kiss me in front of four Aurors, a former Death-Eater, and the Headmistress of this school.”

“Draco,” Pansy says in admonishment.

“There are going to be a lot of rumors about that.”

Draco suddenly sits up in my lap and smiles.

“What?”

“How much do you want to bet that tomorrow’s paper will have a headline of the Boy Who Lived to Be Gay and in Love with a Death Eater’s Son?” he asks.

Seamus whistles and nods. “Sure thing, mate. That’s bigger news than just some Death Eater being found.”

I shut my eyes and say, “Fine. Terms?”

“You two and your betting,” Hermione says.

“We already have one bet to fulfill,” Draco says with an evil glint in his eyes, “but I say … loser is strapped down and covered in chocolate frogs until they melt.”

“And the winner gets to lick the loser clean?” I ask.

Draco nods. “Of course, he’s the winner after all.”

The other boys laugh and Dean slaps Draco on the shoulder. “Crazy, you two are. But that sounds like a great idea. Seamus, you got some chocolate frogs?” The two of them roll away and laugh as they run for the room.

“Not on my bed, perverts,” Ron shouts. “And put up a silencing charm.”

The couch now clear, I lower us down until he’s lying on top of me, curled up and no longer shaking. His hand runs over my arm.

“Thank you, Harry,” Draco whispers into the fabric of my tank top. I kiss the top of his head, and once again have to swallow an ill-advised love confession.


	3. Grateful Moments

Disclaimer: The characters, places and names used in the story are property of JK Rowling and the publishers who contain full rights to monetary gain. No money or fame is garnered from writing this story.

\---

Chapter 3: Grateful Moments

“But Hermione, I don’t know what to get him!”

Hermione rolls her eyes again. “It can’t be that difficult. You’ve been buying him Christmas presents for two years.”

“I know, but now it’s a first-Christmas-as-b-boyfriend’s present. It’s different.”

Hermione glances up when I stutter. “You two haven’t even declared yourselves a couple, have you?”

“Sort of.”

“And sort of means what?”

“We don’t mess around with anyone else.”

“Because that’s all that matters.”

I sigh and lie back, head pillowed by the thick history book on her lap. “Call it an unspoken agreement.”

“It needs to be spoken before he thinks you’re only in it for the sex.”

I sigh again. She pushes a fingertip on my nose, and I open my eyes. “You haven’t had sex?”

I shake my head. “Nothing more than blow jobs. With his past …”

She tilts her head and nods. “Yes. I can see that. I hope he doesn’t think you don’t want him.”

“He told me to give him time. I’m giving him time. And he’s better. He flinches less when I touch him the wrong way. Or when I’m too rough with him. He just needs some time.”

Hermione smiles. “So back to the present. What are you thinking of getting him?”

I groan. “I don’t know.”

“Christmas is in a week, Harry.”

“I know, I know.”

“Even Ron has something for him.”

“Ron bought him a present?” I say, flabbergasted.

Hermione grins. “He’s trying to be friends.”

“What did he get him?”

“You can’t tell Draco.”

“Well, duh.”

“He got him a chess set, but instead of the normal pieces, they’re dragons.”

My eyes go wide. “Wow. That’s a good present. I have to get him something better than that. Fuck. Bloody prick has everything.”

“I’m sure there’s—Pansy! Tell Harry what to get Draco for Christmas.”

Pansy laughs from across the room. “No, thank you.”

I groan again.

“What’s wrong with Harry?” Seamus asks.

“Draco and Christmas,” Pansy says.

Seamus laughs. “Good luck with that, mate. It’s why life is easier without a boyfriend. Get your friend some new Quidditch gloves, or a bunch of candy, or some gag sex toys or something.”

“Glad to know what I’m getting for Christmas,” Dean says.

“I can’t get him any of—“ I trail off and sit up with a cry. “Pansy, did Draco ever buy a new broom?”

She smiles at me. “Nope. He said he was going to wait until spring.”

I cheer again and jump off the couch.

\---

The Saturday before Christmas is the first one that Draco and I don’t spend in bed. We go to Hogsmead with the rest of the students. It snowed heavily yesterday, and now the sun is out, bright, glaring. The air is chilly. Students shuffle through trenches made of snow banks.

“What are you getting me for Christmas?” Draco asks.

I smile and shake my head. “Not telling.”

Draco pouts. “You know I hate surprises.”

“And the last two presents I’ve gotten you, you’ve liked.” I bought him a deluxe, wrist holder for his wand in the heat of the war, and the year before that, a self-filling inkwell shaped like a snake. It still sits on his desk.

“You’re not worried about what I’m going to buy for you?” he asks, biting his lower lip.

“No,” I reply. “You have great taste, and you know me really well.”

“Of course I have great taste. I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” I ask. I mean for it to be flippant, but I don’t quite manage.

Draco looks at me, and then stops, grabbing my scarf to stop me as well. Students meander around us, a few snickering when Draco hugs me.

“A Slytherin sixth year asked me what was going on with us,” he says. “I mean, the _Daily Prophet_ is full of lies about mind control and love potions. And I told him that Harry Potter is my boyfriend and if he doubted that, then he should come ask you. I’m assuming that he didn’t.”

I shake my head.

“If he had, what would you say? Would you say that I am your boyfriend?”

I smile widely and nod. “Yeah. Most definitely. When I was asking Hermione for advice about your present, I said you were my boyfriend, and she was like, all girl about it.”

Draco laughs. He presses a kiss to my lips and then holds out a gloved hand. I take it, and we walk the rest of the way to Hogsmeade. People shoot us looks, some smiles, some not. There are a few reporters who know it’s a Hogsmeade weekend waiting to shout questions at us, but Draco and I ignore them.

Draco had been right, of course. The headline screaming about the relationship between the Boy Who Lived to be Gay and a Death Eater’s Son had been much bigger than the one about Lucius being caught. And the day after, the _Prophet_ only gave Lucius a paragraph to say he’d been Kissed.

That night had been more than amazing. Though the next morning, Draco said not to get him any chocolate for Christmas. We both had our share. And probably the share of half of the Hogwarts students.

“Meet at the Leaky in a couple hours?” I say.

Draco nods, presses a kiss to my cheek and walks away. I hit the broom store first to pick up Draco’s present. I’d owled in my order, since I had the broom customized for Draco. While I’m there, I grab a set of leather-hide Keeper gloves for Ron, and a specialized set of Chaser harness grips for Ginny. I find a book on the history of Quidditch for Hermione. I stop at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes to see the twins, and buy a few gag sex toys for Seamus and Dean. Ernie and Justin get a vast array of chocolate and candy.

And for Pansy, I stop at the small jewelry store and purchase a pin with a mother of pearl inlay and a silver snake that with a whispered word will weave around the circumference.

I’m about to leave when I see something for else for Draco. A silver ring with the crest of Slytherin embedded at the top. It’s covered in deep green emeralds and diamonds, and I know I shouldn't buy it, but it’s for Draco, so I do anyway.

Before going to the Leaky, I re-size each gift so they’re all the same size, just in case Draco gets snoopy like he usually does. My cheeks are red, my fingers cold through my gloves as I push through the door. Rosmerta smiles at me and gestures with her arm across the pub. Draco, Hermione and Pansy are already at a table.

I head over there. Draco sees me first and his smile widens, face almost glowing, but I won’t say that to him because I don’t want a bruise on my arm. I slide into the booth next to him. Warm lips press against my cheek.

“Hey,” Draco says. “What did you get me?”

“Stuff,” I reply and laugh at his pout.

“Pansy says she knows and she won’t tell me either.” He crosses his arms and looks so much like the Draco of old for a moment.

“Are you going to tell me what you got for me?” I ask.

“Of course not.”

“Then why should I tell you what I got for you?”

“Because I said so.” Draco’s moment is disrupted by the arrival of Ron, Dean and Seamus. We spend the afternoon talking and laughing. Through the day, others come and go from our table, wishes of a happy Christmas are exchanged. Rosmerta brings us a huge pile of meat and potatoes and bread and vegetables.

I don’t want to go back to the castle, that is until Draco puts his head on my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “If you spent more than three hundred Galleons on me, then I’m going to tie you to the bed tonight and tease you.”

I whisper back, lips perilously close to his, “You’re just digging for clues on what I got for you.”

“Maybe. So do I get to tie you up or not?”

“Yes.”

He smiles widely and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Excuse me, Mister Potter?”

I glance up and lose my smile.

The man, obviously a reporter, smiles at us. “I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”

“Don’t bother him,” Ron says immediately. 

“No, not like that. I was only hoping that he and Mister Malfoy would agree to an interview for _Witch Weekly_. Our readers are enamored with the story between star-crossed lovers.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” I say.

One of Rosmerta’s security guards is there a moment later, and the man gives me a card just in case we change our mind.

“Too bad he wasn’t from _Which Wizard_ ,” Seamus says after the man is gone.

Draco laughs and smiles at me. “How about it? Wanna do a partial nude spread, exclusive interview for them?”

“No,” I say and put my arms around his waist. “This is my body to see and touch and no one else’s.”

“Not anymore anyway,” he whispers.

\---

Christmas morning I wake up to wet heat around my cock and a “Holy fuck, Draco” falling from my lips as a good morning. He’s woken me up with a blowjob so many times before that you’d think I’d be used to it. There’s a slight difference to this one though. Everything tingles. Draco’s fingers lightly squeeze my bollocks, twisting as he pulls. My eyes refuse to open as the waves of pleasure increase.

Draco’s mouth pulls back far enough to whisper, “Happy Christmas” against the head of my cock, and then he’s teasing me with his tongue and teeth.

“Best present ever,” I say as my orgasm builds.

“It gets better,” he says, and before I can ask, he says, “Come for me,” and the tingles morph into shocks, and my eyes fly open, pleasure tripling in seconds, and the heat is so bad, but it’s nothing compared to how hard I come, and how much, just suddenly like I’m sucked dry, moaning as Draco swallows my release.

Everything is blurred in a gray fog as my body slowly recovers from the high. “What … the … hell …”

Draco chuckles. “The newest experiment from Fred and George. They haven’t named it yet, but it’s for those moments when you just don’t have time for real sex. Coat the cock, stroke the balls, say the words and it’s an instant orgasm.”

“Oh god. Remind me to give them more money for research and development.”

Draco laughs. “Come on. The others are waiting for us.” He cleans me up with a quick spell. I try to stand, but my legs wobble from the aftereffects. He’s laughing at me, even though on the outside he’s only smiling. I struggle with sweats and a jumper. I’m still tired from a lack of sleep; it’s too early for this, and the intense orgasm really didn’t help. Draco puts his arm around my waist and I lean against him, eyes shut as he steers me to the common room.

Cries of “Happy Christmas, Harry” greet my ears. I smile and wave my hand because it’s all I have energy for.

Draco throws me on a couch. I land with an _oomph_. It’s only us, Ron and Hermione and Pansy. The other eighth years had all gone home for the rest of the hols, and we promised Molly to stop over on Boxing Day.

“Me first,” Draco says.

Our presents are in one big pile until Hermione waves her wand and they rearrange in front of the owner.

When the obvious broom-shaped one falls in front of Draco, he glares at me. "Potter."

“Don’t be a prat and just open it,” I say with a smile.

He pulls it to his lap, scowling. “I was going to buy my own…” He trails off when he sees the design. The wood is deep gray. The name _SkyRocket – Turbo Edition_ is emblazed on the handle in bright silver script. And just below that, in green, is _Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Seeker_

“Wow, mate,” Ron says to me. “That’s awesome. You’ll let me have go, right, Ferret?”

Draco nods slowly as he turns the broom around and around in his hands.

“Mine next!” Pansy says and pushes a clinking box to Draco. He gives himself a shake, settles the broom on his lap and opens Pansy’s gift. It’s a _SkyRocket Turbo Edition Special Grooming Kit_.

“I knew Harry would forget,” she says as an explanation.

The rest of us get a little bored watching Draco, so we start opening some presents too. There’s a Weasley sweater. Mine is green this year. Hermione makes a face at hers. Bright pink. Ron’s is maroon, as always, and Draco’s is silver.

“I want one,” Pansy says with a pout. “I feel left out.”

“Pansy, darling, open the present from me,” Draco says.

Pansy’s eyes light up as she tears open the parcel. She squeals in delight. “Cashmere, Draco darling? Cashmere! I haven't been able to get a new cashmere sweater for months. And oh my god, is this dragon hide!” She holds up a black backpack. “You are the greatest friend in the history of great friends.”

Draco nods. “Yes I am.”

When she gets to my present, her eyes are wide, surprised. "Po-Harry, I ..."

I smile. "Just open it, Pansy."

The unshed tears fall as she stares at the broach. Hermione leans over and whistles. "Wow, Harry, that's gorgeous."

Pansy lifts it carefully, but her hands are shaking badly. Hermione takes it and pins it to her shirt. It looks silly, such a beautiful piece of jewelry on a t-shirt.

"Thank you, H-Harry."

"Bloody hell, Weasel," Draco says when he suddenly catches sight of the big box for him.

Ron tries to look bored as Draco picks it up. He rips through the green and silver packaging, stares for a moment, and then opens the box.

"Wow," he says. He picks up a red dragon. It sits in his palm and then lifts it head, puffing out a small flame. The other team of dragons is green.

"Since we're ... you know, not really enemies anymore, figure a bit of Slytherin green and Gryffindor red would work on the chess board."

Draco shakes his head. "This is-- it's too much, Ron, it's ..."

"Hey," he says, sitting up straight. His cheeks are red with embarrassment. "I was given money after the war too. Just take it."

"No, no, not ... I didn't mean it like that, Weasel, it's just ... I ..."

I pinch his side. "Just say thank you, you prat."

Draco swallows. "I think the world will end if I say thank you to a Weasel."

Ron snorts.

"I really like it," Draco says quickly. "It's awesome. Thank you."

I screech and cover my head, only for a second, and then I peek out to see the others watching me. "Sorry. The world did not end."

Draco rolls his eyes. Then he says, "I'm lucky, Hermione tipped me off, because I would have been mad if I didn't get you anything." He points to a green wrapped package. "And, if that's not enough, I actually went shopping with Hermione to buy it. So it's approved by her, and it in no way is meant to rag on your clothing choices or your ... oh hell, who am I kidding? Just open it."

Ron looks at the package suspiciously before opening it up. He stares at it, and then looks over at Hermione. She too rolls her eyes and then says, "Look at it. Stand up."

Ron slowly stands and the packaging falls away. It's black, with deep red undertones.

"It's just a cloak, Weasel," Draco says.

"It's not just a cloak," Hermione protests. "Put it on."

Ron throws it over his shoulder. Immediately the fabric adjusts to his shoulders and his height.

"It's dragonhide and filled with repelling charms, blocking charms, security and safety charms. And it's reversible, so if the black is too ostentatious you can turn it around for the blue slate."

Draco looks a little uncomfortable after the explanation, so he says, "I know you want to be an Auror, Weasel. Consider it a future career investment."

"I ... Merlin, you ugly Ferret, I don't know what to say."

"And it looks sexy," Pansy says.

There's a moment of startled silence and we all start laughing. Ron’s cheeks turn almost scarlet as he stammers his thanks.

"I got you one too, Harry," Draco says and nudges one of my packages.

"Really? Cool." Excited, I rip into the packaging. The outer layer is dark green, the inside, a pale gray.

"I thought you wouldn't mind wearing green as much as the Weasel did," Draco says.

I stand up and throw the clock over my shoulders. It tingles along my skin. I feel the spells working and adjusting to my magical signature. I turn wide eyes to Draco. "This is amazing. It's ... molded to me."

Draco nods. "Yeah."

"Didn't you get one for you?" Ron asks, suddenly.

Draco smirks. "I bought one for me as soon as it was released this year."

"Arrogant snake," Ron says with a smile.

We wear the cloaks through the rest of the unwrapping, despite how hot it grows. And then just for fun, we throw disarming spells at each other. More often than not, our wands only wobble in our hands.

The house-elves bring us breakfast, and we decide that later in the afternoon, we'll go out to the Quidditch pitch to test out Draco's new broom. We take our presents back to our room, and while Draco slips into the bathroom, I sit on the bed with his other present, breath catching.

I know what it means to give a girl a ring. And I most definitely wasn't thinking that when I bought the thing. It's Slytherin, and important to Draco. I take the ring out and look at it for a little while. The emeralds actually form a snake, where a black diamond is the eye. The door opens and I hastily put it back in the box.

"What's that?"

I blush and then say, "Well, I did spend more than three hundred Galleons on you." I hold out the box. He stands there, not moving to take it. "I-I didn't think of the implications of buying my boyfriend a ring when I bought it, so don't think it means anything more than I saw it and I thought of you and I thought you should have it."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Capable of deductive reason. Well done."

"Just open it."

He laughs as he moves to me. He takes the box, flips the lid and again, I have the satisfaction of seeing Draco surprised.

"W-where did you get this?"

"The jewelry shop in Hogsmeade. The guy said he's had it for a few years. Someone sold it to him."

Draco carefully removes the ring and then grins widely. "This used to belong to Severus."

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "No way!"

Draco nods. He peers on the inside of the ring. “Yep. It says ‘Half-Blood Prince’ on the inside. Merlin. When I was young, like six, seven, he used to let me play with it. He always wore it back then. He ... gods, he sold it?"

"He probably needed the money," I reply thinking of the dent it made in my Gringotts account.

I suddenly have a lap full of Draco. His lips press against mine forcefully. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much. It's amazing, and it means so much to me to have something of his. I know you didn’t buy it for that, but that makes it even better, because you bought it on a whim." My arms tighten around him as our kiss deepens. He pushes me back to the bed, and we adjust and roll until our legs are entangled and we're so close that I can't breathe properly.

"Hey, guys--ooh, sorry," Ron says.

Draco and I break apart.

"Sorry. Didn't realize you were giving each other ... those kinds of presents."

Draco laughs and climbs off me. "Look what else this sap bought me." He shows Ron the ring.

"A crest ring? Wow, Harry. That's expensive."

"Yeah, it was. Worth it though. What's up?

"Ah, Ginny was here and the seventh years are going to have a massive snowball fight and she invited us."

"Definitely in," Draco says.

I nod. "Yep. Me too. We'll be right down."

“Moment postponed,” Draco says as Ron shuts the door.

I grin. “It’s okay. I’d rather go outside and kick your arse in a snowball fight.”

“That sounds like a challenge. Shall we make it interesting?”

“Money this time?”

Draco ponders that and then nods, “Yeah. Since blowjobs are no longer what they used to be between us.”

I want to make him explain, but I don’t. Because I get it.

“A Galleon for every snowball to the body. Five for every snowball to the face.”

I laugh. “Deal.”

\---

Hours later, warmed from a shower, heated from alone time in bed with Draco, I stare at the ceiling. We tumbled to the floor earlier and with all our pillows and blankets and Long Lasting Cushioning charms in place, Draco decided we’d sleep here.

The most comfortable thing about it is the man in my arms.

Draco’s mouth opens against my shoulder. His body rolls against me. I hum in contentment, holding him tightly.

“Did you have a good Christmas, Harry?” Draco whispers.

“Yes. Probably the best one of my life. What about you?”

Draco looks up and smirks at me. “Are you kidding? I got to bean the Weasel in the face with a snowball.”

I laugh, he smiles and then we’re kissing. Not that we’ve stopped kissing.

“Hey, Harry,” I mutter against his lips, “I bet you’re going to be snogging Malfoy when you’re eighteen. Yeah, sure whatever.”

Draco laughs. “Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say and brush my fingers over his cheeks. “The best thing about the war.”

“Not the whole winning thing? Good triumphs evil?”

“Draco, if I hadn’t ended up with you, I wouldn’t have felt like I had won.”

“You’re such a sappy girl, Potter,” he says, smiling widely.

“Care to take this sappy girl of me and show me how much you love me?”

He tilts his head to the side, and I wince. “S-sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean.”

He kisses me silent, hands sliding down my sides. “I guess I have made you wait long enough, huh?”

“D-draco.” My voice breaks as his mouth closes around my nipple. I’m suddenly so achingly hard. We’d just had orgasms not even a half hour ago. He chews at my chest, hands firm on my hips. My brain is on overdrive, but I grab his head and yank him away from me.

“Don’t, Draco,” I say, gasping. “Don’t do this for me.”

Draco smiles and says, “How about you do it for me?”

At my confused look, he continues, “I don’t want …” He looks down and bites his lower lip. He trails his fingers up and around my erection. “I’m so afraid, Harry. But I don’t want to be afraid of you.”

“Do you want to top?” I ask.

That lower lip is turning bright red from Draco’s cheek. He shakes his head. “T-that’s almost worse than …” He shivers and curls away from me. I follow and wrap my arms around him, pull him close so we’re back to chest. I lay kisses on his shoulder and neck. “The only times I’ve ever topped was raping someone. It’s … gods, Potter, I—“

“We don’t have to do anything,” I whisper. “It was a very—“

“I know you’re frustrated,” he says. “It’s been months.”

“And if this is what makes you happy, then I’ll wait more months.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t reply.

I hold him tighter as his body starts shaking. “Don’t agonize over this, Dray,” I whisper, lips against his neck. “I understand that what they did … well, I don’t understand like that, but it’s going to take you time, and I’m willing to give you that time because I love you.”

He twists in my arms, eyes wide. “What?”

I grin, propped up on an elbow. My fingers reach for his chest, trace the scars. “I love you, Draco Malfoy.”

“You are … I … Merlin.”

“I also love seeing you flabbergasted and surprised.”

“Bloody hell, Potter, what am I supposed to say to that?”

“Tell me you love me, if you love me.”

“Of course, I love you, you prat, but what … I …”

I pull him close again and kiss his lips over and over. “I did not tell you that so we could have sex. I told you that so you would know that I will wait for whenever you’re ready.”

He curls in on himself, face at my chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

“Then I will be content with blowjobs.”

He scoffs and his arms wrap around me suddenly, holding me tightly. “I love you,” he mutters into my chest. I smile, whisper one more confession into his hair and then shut my eyes and try to relax.

\---

“I hate school,” Ron says, head dropping to the table in the library with a thunk. “Tell me why we came back.”

“You can’t just get by on life from being a war hero, Ronald,” Hermione says. “You need a basis of education to help you—“

“Oh gods, no. Be quiet, please, just … let me wallow in agony.”

Hermione purses her lips together and goes back to reading her Arithmancy book.

I shoot an amused glance at Draco, but he’s just as studious as Hermione is and I doubt he even noticed the exchange. I’m supposed to be studying Potions. It’s Sunday. The light from the windows is bright. Tempting. The air is still cold, but it’s not raining or snowing and—

I drop my head to the table with a groan. “I want to go flying.”

“Me, too, mate. Let’s go,” Ron says and stands up.

Hermione grabs his arm. “No. You promised you’d study today.”

“Let him go, ‘Mione,” Draco says. “Always was more brawn than brains.”

“What about me?” I ask.

Draco looks up from his book and grins. “You’re all cock, Potter.”

Ron quickly stifles his laughter and Hermione frowns at him.

“Come on, Ron,” I say and pack up my things. “We can study for NEWTs during Easter break.”

Hermione shakes her head. “You’re not going to do well.”

“I have a big cock,” I say, “I don’t need to do well in school.”

Hermione shoots a disgusted look at Draco who’s trying hard not to laugh. I kiss Draco’s cheek. “See you later, love,” I say.

He pinches my ass I walk around him. “Later, love.”

I’m smiling like a dork as Ron and I head out of the library and up to our dorms to grab our brooms.

“So,” he says.

“So,” I reply.

“You two really love each other?”

“Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah. But … no offence, but we have a bet going on when you two will fuck for the first time and my date is coming up fast.”

I laugh. “God, Ron.”

“Eh, I thought you’d jump him sooner, that’s all.”

“It’s tempting, but with him, I’m not going to push it or force him.”

“They raped him, huh?”

I nod. “A lot.”

Ron shivers.

“And why is this about me and Draco, what about you and Hermione?”

He turns bright pink and then says, “We-we … sort of …”

“Oh my god, you did!”

“No-No. We … we talked about it and we sort of aren’t dating.”

I stop and stare at him. “What?”

“Look, we weren’t really dating anyway, but she cornered me in the common room one day and said that we had to talk about it, so we could move on together or move on separately.”

An image of Ron sitting next to Pansy by the fire a few days ago flits through my brain. “Oh my god, you like P—“

His mouth covers my hand. “Shut up. I … don’t … not really. Maybe. Shut up.”

I grin and lick his hand. He yanks it away with a disgusted face and then wipes it on my robes.

\--

It’s the warmest day of the year, even if that means it’s still chilly. But the sun is out, and the grass is green again. Spring has officially arrived.

Draco and I lie on the bank of the lake. My eyes are shut, sun soaking into the bare skin of my chest.

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

“What are we going to do after school?”

I prop up on my elbows and look over at him. He’s sitting, facing the lake, back to me. He rips up blades of grass and tosses them away. The sunlight flickers off the water. A single tentacle from the giant squid waves on the surface near the middle of the lake.

“What do you mean? I thought you were going to go for Potions mastery.”

“I am, but … I mean … us. What …” He sighs.

I smile when I figure out what he’s talking about. I scoot forward and run my hand up his bare back, curling around his shoulder, sliding it down his chest. I hold him against me.

“Sorry,” I say. “I guess I just figured you’d come and live at Grimmauld Place with me. I should have asked you what you wanted.”

“You want me there?”

“Of course, I do, Draco. Pansy, too, if she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You are too good to me,” he says. He turns his head and our lips meet.

“It’s because I love you.”

“It’s because you’re crazy,” he says. “One too many curses from the Dark Lord.”

I roll my eyes and hold him tightly against my chest. “Live with me?”

“Okay.”

“Love me?”

“Already do.”

“Good. Shall we go swim?”

“Yep. You’re crazy, Potter. That water is probably freezing.”

“I didn’t mean here. Giant tub in the prefects' bathroom. Should be empty this time of the day.”

Draco laughs. “Great idea. All this schooling has been good for something.”


	4. Trusting Moments

Disclaimer: The characters, places and names used in the story are property of JK Rowling and the publishers who contain full rights to monetary gain. No money or fame is garnered from writing this story.

\---

Chapter 4: Trusting Moments

“I’m going to be the first one to say that this feels weird.”

I tilt my head up and look at Draco. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he says, eyes on the fire. “I just never thought I’d see myself lounging in front of a fire with a glass of Cabernet Franc in my hand, in a steady relationship, and cuddling with my boyfriend and partner Harry Potter.”

I grin and burrow back into his body. “You love it.”

He hums in agreement and sips on his wine. I stare at the fire, watching the flames flicker innocently in the hearth. Sometimes staring into a fire brings back memories I don’t want.

He shivers, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. He points his wand to the fire and douses it, shadowing the sitting room of Grimmauld Place in tones of gray and darkness. It’s almost as bad as the fire.

He downs the rest of his wine, and then pushes me away. I sit up, not going far. He puts his hands in his face and sighs. I rub his back, fingers reveling in the soft cashmere of his sweater. He flinches before slowly leaning into me.

“Do you think we’ll ever get over it?”

“No.”

Nodding, Draco stands up. He holds out his hand and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. I follow his lead, up to the top floor of the house.

We are sharing the same room we shared during the war, the one that used to be Sirius’s old room. It was Draco’s choice, and part of me thought it was easier to live in the master suite with its sitting room and bathroom and closets, but Draco said he felt more comfortable here.

He bypasses our bedroom though and we enter the bathroom. Over the course of the school year, and through the end of the war, Grimmauld Place was cleaned and reconstructed. As soon as Draco came to live here, we were able to get that horrible Walburga Black portrait out of the entrance hall. And with its destruction, the evil dark obscuring the house slowly lifted. It is now a place I’m proud to call home.

I hope Draco feels the same way, but we don’t discuss is.

We don’t discuss a lot of things.

Draco points his wand at the sunken tub (almost like a pool) and it slowly fills with steaming water. A few of the taps release oils and bubbles into it.

I stand still as Draco undresses me. Usually he wouldn’t bother and just Banish my clothes to get me naked.

His body is almost touching mine as his fingers unbutton my shirt. His hands shake, sliding up to my shoulders and the shirt drops to the tiled floor. He bites his lower lip, looks down and steadily unbuttons my jeans. His fingertips unconsciously tease the bends of my hips, and I shiver, cock twitching under the attention. He smirks, still not looking at me as he finishes undressing me.

Our eyes meet, and his are this dark gray, a sadness, like an overhanging storm cloud. He smiles, presses a kiss to my lips and jerks his head to the tub.

I climb in, moaning as the hot water immediately relaxes my muscles. I float on my back, and a moment later, Draco joins me. His arms wrap around my waist and our lips meet. We move around until my back hits the edge of the tub. Draco settles between my legs, hands running up and down my thighs.

His mouth opens, and our tongues tangle as the sweet kiss turns desperate. He cups my ass, yanking me forward. A moment later, his hand grips both of our erections. He strokes firmly. There’s a bit of a slide from the oils in the water, but it’s mostly friction. I gasp, head smacking the edge. His lips move down my throat, teeth nipping at skin.

“D-draco,” I stammer.

“Huh?” he asks, breath hot against my collarbone.

“Fuck.”

Draco chuckles. He lavishes more attention on my collarbones, shoulders and chest – everything that is out of the water. The strokes speed up on our cocks, and my head is spinning from the pleasure. His tongue touches my ear, and then his voice is whispering. I have to really concentrate to hear it.

“—like this, Harry-love? I love turning you into mush, but what are thinking about? Are you thinking about slipping your fingers into my body, pumping them in and out of me while I have my legs up and spread, open for your feasting?”

I whimper as the image fills my brain.

“Or are you the one begging for it? Are you open for me, gripping your ass and begging me to fuck you with my cock?”

“Fuck, Draco!”

“Or are you straddling my hips, hands on my chest while you ride me, your cock bouncing and spurting come all over both of us.”

My eyes shut. Pleasure shoots through me and I’m shuddering my orgasm into the water in heavy spurts of come.

Draco chuckles and slows his strokes. “Merlin, I don’t even need the Weasleys’ instant orgasm cream.”

I shake my head slowly, mouth open. Just the image of fucking Draco is intense enough to get me to come. He’s done this before: filled my head with images and then done nothing more than stroke or suck me off. I keep telling him I’ll wait for him, but I’m getting impatient. He knows I am, but he also knows it’s his fault because he keeps teasing me.

I slip my hand in the water, get a finger on his erection before he pulls away.

“Bed, Potter.”

“Wanna lie on your back?”

“Yes.”

I grin. Our lips meet in one more kiss and then Draco washes me, head to toe, fingers firm and aching at the same time. I’m so fucking relaxed by the time he declares our bath over that I don’t want to get out of water.

I hear him climb out.

“You have five seconds and then I’m turning that water into ice.”

I sigh. “Fine, fine.” I turn around and haul myself from the tub. A blast of cold air hits me and I curse. You’d think I’d be used to Draco’s tactics in drying me off.

“Fucker,” I mutter, teeth chattering.

He smirks, unrepentant. “I’d feel bad, but I know how to heat you up.” He cups his erection and turns away. “Are you coming to bed?”

I scramble to my feet and chase after him. “Arrogant snake.”

He laughs. I brush past him and climb into our bed, shivering until Draco casts a warming charm on our blankets.

Draco climbs in after me, and his warm skin presses against mine. I curl into his body.

“Do we have to have a party here tomorrow night?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply. “Lots of things to celebrate.”

Draco sighs. “I don’t need to celebrate them.”

“Draco, come on. We graduated from Hogwarts. You’re starting your Potions Mastery in a week, Ron is off to play Quidditch for the Cannons, Ginny and Oliver are getting married—”

“You’re the boy who killed the madman a year ago,” Draco adds.

“And you’re the boy who helped me.”

Draco sighs again. “I just feel like I’m finally comfortable, and tomorrow everything is going to ruin that.”

I press a kiss to his chest and trail my hand around his stomach. It’s very rare that Draco is honest about something without being a total prat about it. “Tell me, and I’ll cancel it. We can have it at the Burrow and you can stay home.”

He shakes his head. “No, Harry. Sorry. I know this is important for you and everyone else.”

I turn his head and make him look at me. “What is really bothering you, love?”

Draco swallows. “N-nothing.”

He sees my disbelieving look and rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’re so smart, Potter.”

“Stop calling me that. You only call me that when you feel insecure.”

“I …”

Draco shakes his head and turns away, curling up on his side. I frown at his back and slide next to him. I never force Draco to talk to me. Part of me wishes I do, for moments like this. His body is shuddering. I wrap my arm around his waist, press a kiss to his spine between his shoulder blades. 

“I wish I knew what to say to make everything better, for you, for us, for … everything.”

He sighs, body sagging against mine.

“I love you,” I say, lips against his neck now.

He turns his head and our lips meet briefly. “You have no idea how hearing you say that makes everything better.”

I smile into the next kiss. “It’s true. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Harry.”

\--

The party is huge, and there are more people in Grimmauld Place than there were even at the height of the war. Draco is his usual self. I can tell that he’s fighting some internal battles, and so can Pansy and Hermione to an extent, but no one else realizes anything. He’s just as sarcastic and arrogant as he always is. To my surprise, he spends most of the night in the company of the Weasley twins. They’re talking business whenever I come near them, but by the way Fred's and George’s eyes are glinting, I have a feeling they’re talking about the new products in the Weasley Adult Line.

Near the middle of the party, Hermione decides to gather everyone in the main dining room for a round of toasts for all the things we are celebrating. The table has been moved, leaving the area looking more like a ballroom. The house-elves have enlarged it to fit all our guests. Hermione picks a perfect time for it, since most of us are already partially drunk, and if we wait much longer, we’ll be totally sloshed.

Everyone stands in a circle, Never-Emptying cups full of Ogden’s Finest. Their eyes all look at me, and I swallow. I hate being under scrutiny. Draco saves me. Even though he rolls his eyes.

“What Harry should be saying,” Draco starts, “is thank you all for coming, and please don’t get drunk and destroy the place now that it’s all pretty and renovated and free of the Dark Arts.”

“Aw, man,” Fred says.

“Better leave the experimental exploding things in our pants,” George adds.

Fred opens his mouth to make a sexual joke, and Molly shoots a curse at him. He yelps and rubs his arm. “Um, Sorry, Ferret. Continue.”

Draco grins at them and continues, “So a series of toasts. First, Ginny and Oliver, congratulations. May you have many red-headed children that do not fall off broomsticks as much as Harry does.”

The crowd laughs and raises their glasses to Ginny and Oliver.

“Next, Weasel.” Draco tips his glass to Ron. He smiles, and then in a low voice starts singing “Weasley is our King.” Again the crowd laughs and half way through, they join in with the song, though Fred and George sing the not-so-nice lyrics. “Congratulations on making Keeper for the Cannons,” Draco says.

“Thanks, Ferret,” Ron says.

“And,” Draco says, looking at Pansy.

“Don’t you dare, Dra—“

“Congratulations to both of you for adding another Weasley to the world. I hope the child gets its looks from Pansy and doesn’t end up looking like a Weasel.”

Everything is silent and wide-eyed looks of shock are pointed at the blushing couple.

“What?” I shriek and it’s echoed by half the revelers.

Ron glares at Draco, and then at Pansy. “Thanks, Pans. We weren’t supposed to tell anyone yet.”

“He promised me he wouldn’t tell!” Pansy says, glaring at Draco.

It makes more sense to me why Pansy requested a glass of water at the beginning of the party.

Hermione breaks the circle and hugs Pansy tightly. “Congratulations.”

“T-thanks,” she says, hugging back. As others start to go to hug her too, Draco calls everyone to order.

“Hugs after the toasts,” Draco says. He turns to little Teddy, who is practically asleep in Molly Weasley’s arms. “Happy Birthday to our youngest war veteran.”

Teddy doesn’t know what that means, but he beams and says, “Thank you, Uncca Draco.”

Draco smiles, and then moves to Hermione. “The brightest witch of our time, right?” he drawls.

Hermione rolls her eyes and makes an obscene gesture that has everyone laughing.

“Congratulations on your acceptance into the Charms Mastery and Arithmancy Mastery. May you never sleep again.”

“Hear, hear!” Ron says, raising his glass.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t get that one up the duff?” Fred says, and earns another curse from Molly.

Ron and Hermione smile at each other.

Draco turns to the Weasley twins as the laughter fades. “A new store in Hogsmeade is always worth a drink. Congratulations, and let me know when you need more money to make more sex toys. I’ll give you Harry’s account number.”

“We already have it, mate,” Fred says with a wink.

“What?” I demand.

Fred and George laugh along with everyone else.

Draco takes a deep breath. “Okay, so that’s it, I …”

More than one of us, me included, shout a denial.

“What? Who did I forget?”

“You,” I say. I raise my glass. “To Draco, for starting his Potions Mastery, the first step on his way to teaching at Hogwarts and scaring the shite out of first years for the rest of his life.”

“Hear! Hear!”

Draco smiles at me and we both drink.

After a moment, Draco sobers and then looks at the gathered friends again. “I think Harry should say this next part.”

I look at him, and then look at everyone else. It is fitting for me to make this speech, but I still hate it. I pause and think of how to start.

“Across town, the Ministry is holding a banquet in memory of the war. It is full of dignitaries, officials, and those who did not fight on the front lines. I guess most of our invitations were lost in the owl post, right?”

There were snickers all around us. I received an invitation, but Draco had not, nor had Pansy, nor the Weasleys.

“Many lives were lost in the war.”

The room quiets as we remember our friends.

“But here, at this place, they are remembered in the way they should be remembered, with a glass of rum and laughter from those who knew them best. If we took a drink for each of our friends that died in the war, we’d be drunk in only a few minutes, so please raise your glasses, join me in a moment of silence as we remember those that gave their lives for us to be free.”

Draco takes my hand and nods his approval at my short speech. It is quiet for a long time, and then I clear my throat. Voice choked, I say, “To them and to us.”

Everyone drinks. Everything is quiet for another moment and then slowly people start talking and breaking off into pairs. The women gather around Pansy, and the twins rescue Ron from their raging mother.

“Can we disappear?” Draco whispers.

I look around the room and shrug. “You’re the party expert. Isn’t that a social faux pas to disappear at a party you’re hosting?”

“Yes. Let’s do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

We set our drinks on one of the trays charmed to take it to the kitchen and we leave the dining room. We pass a few people in the halls. Once on the stairs, Draco takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom.

Draco removes his tie and sits on the bed. I watch from the door as he roughly unbuttons his shirt. A couple of the buttons snap under the treatment. I undo a few buttons on my shirt and pull it over my head. Before going to the bed, I throw up a silencing spell, five locking charms and add a Confundus Charm for good measure.

“Overkill,” Draco says and he lies back on the bed, feet still on the floor.

“Maybe,” I reply.

He flings an arm over his face, and doesn’t protest when I unclasp his slacks and take off the rest of his clothes. I run my hands over his thighs and hips, up his stomach to his chest. My fingertips brush over his nipples and he inhales.

“Harry?”

“Hm?” I lean over him and press a line of kisses on his breastbone.

“Make love to me.”

I freeze and then kiss his neck. “Okay.”

He grips my hair and pulls me to his mouth. I kneel on the edge of the bed, straddling his waist as our lips meet in a heavy kiss. His body is shaking, his lips are shaking.

I want to ask if he’s sure, if he’s ready, if he really wants this. But I know Draco and it will upset him, because if he didn’t want it, he would not have asked for it.

My cock is hard in my pants.

I undo the button and lower the zipper of my trousers. He pushes his hand into my pants and we both pull them off.

He sighs, eyes shut. Our kiss ends. He pushes his upper body off the bed and slides toward the middle. He rolls over, spread eagle, naked and gorgeous. I lick my lips. A wandless spell calls the lube from the bathroom where we last used it.

I crawl over him, kissing his feet and ankles, sliding my tongue up the smooth skin of his knee and the back of his thigh.

This isn’t the exact day the war ended. But this is the day when we destroyed Voldemort. We were both captured, because we were young and stupid. And Draco … Draco was more or less taken like nothing changed. He fought back with fists and nails, and they laughed at him as they threw Cruciatus Curses at him. Over and over until he was so weak.

I can’t remember ever being so angry at the Death Eaters. I’d seen them kill my friends, rip apart my family and destroy most of Hogwarts, but that is what set me off.

I’d been practicing wandless magic for months before this, and over and over, my instructors said I had to “FEEL” what I wanted.

It didn’t make sense until then. I wanted them to burn, I wanted them all to burn. And I felt it, on my skin, in my body, and with my blurry eyes turned on Draco’s tormentors, I shouted the spell for Fiendfyre. It ripped through the room, and only a few of them escaped. Draco and I barely managed to get out of that room. And when we tumbled outdoors, the war was all around us. I summoned our wands to us. Being so full of magic was odd, and Draco felt the aftereffect for weeks. It was a combination of the two our of magical signatures that produced a slashing curse effective enough for us to disable Voldemort and then Ron had been there with the sword of Gryffindor.

I try not to relive hacking Voldemort to pieces.

“Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“The only reason I don’t have that day permanently Obliviated from my mind is because of you.”

I smile and kiss the dip in his spine at his lower back. “Same here.”

He props up on his elbows. “I know you’re worried about me, love,” he says. “But I … I want this day to have a good memory, too. A happy one, one that will shine in comparison to that day.”

“Wow. Talk about pressure to perform.”

Draco laughs and rolls over. I crawl up him to his lips for a kiss. “Anything you can do to me will be better than that day.”

“Now that’s the truth.”

I settle over him. Our kiss deepens. His legs wrap around me. We both shudder as our erections slide together. We’ve been this way so many times, but this is different. It’s almost like since we’re going to be doing more, there’s less need to rush, less desperation between us. And yet, we’re both shaking so much that I don’t know who is more nervous.

Weeks or years or hours or moments later, I pull away from his lips. Our forehead press together and our breaths mingle as our hips slowly rock together. I turn my attention to his skin. His soft, pampered, aristocratic skin. I always feel a little unworthy when Draco lets me worship him.

I close my mouth around a pink nipple, sucking slightly and flicking the nub with my tongue.

“Hm, Harry?”

“Huh?” I ask as I move to the other nipple.

“Feels good.”

I smile and let my tongue run down his stomach, over twitching abs. I pause and lick at the scars decorating his chest. He hates it when I do this, but I ignore his protest and continue until each scar has been rectified and forgiven.

I caress the sharp edge of his hip bone and lick at the dip over and over until he’s squirming and almost laughing. This is how I love Draco the most, when he’s dropped his walls and he’s more or less normal. I won’t say this out loud, because he throws his walls back up when I do.

I lightly grip his cock and pull it away from his body. I lick his stomach first, where the head had rested. The tang of precome fills my mouth. I moan and close my mouth around the tip of his erection. He moans, trying to thrust up into my mouth. I tighten my hold with my hand and lick at the crown, over and around, tonguing the slit until Draco is begging me to do something.

I smirk and suck a few inches into my mouth. With my other hand, I trace the curves of his ass.

“Bloody fuck, Harry,” he practically shouts.

I let his cock fall back to his body with a smack. I smile up at him, fingers still at his ass. With my other hand, I open the bottle of lube and coat my fingers with it. Our eyes meet, and Draco’s gaze is bordering on panic. I won’t mind if he changes his mind. I kiss his knee, hoping he knows that.

His eyes shut and he lifts his legs, gripping behind his knees.

I stare at his body for a moment, lick my lips as his entrance clenches in anticipation. I slide my slick finger to the puckered skin, just touching and not pressing, not yet. I lean forward and lick his balls. My other hand grabs his cock again and the three sensations have him screaming my name again.

“Finger me, Harry,” he gasps, “please.”

I push my finger into him; he cries out again. I rise up enough to put his cock into my mouth and cup his balls with my other hand. I finger him slowly, twisting and crooking my finger until the spasming stops and Draco begs for more. I add more lube.

We never use the spells for stretching and lubing automatically. Draco said once in an offhand conversation that it was so impersonal. I took the hint, knowing that it had to do with his experiences at the hands of the Death Eaters.

I wait until he’s more or less relaxed and then press in a second finger. This is as far as we’ve ever gone. It seems silly to stop right here, but at this point, I’m used to sucking Draco off and then either jerking off while Draco watches or getting a blow job in return.

I pull my mouth away from his cock, because I don’t want him to come until I’m inside him, and I want him to like it. I’m so worried that he’s going to go soft as soon as I push inside him. I kiss around his cock though, and continue playing with his balls as I spread and twist my fingers. A third pushes into him and his cock pulses, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to come anyway.

“Hurry, please, Harry, please,” he whispers.

I remove my fingers from his body and lean over him so I can kiss him. His chest is rising and falling fast.

“I want you to go at your own pace, so I’m going to be lazy and just lie back and let you ride me.”

Draco smirks, but there is a thankful look in his eyes.

I roll away and stretch. He’s kissing me a moment later, lips against my chest.

“I love you,” he says into my skin.

I run my fingers through his hair and tell him I love him.

He grabs the bottle of lube and dumps the cool liquid on my cock. His hand follows, and my eyes shut as he strokes me.

“Would you be terribly angry if I changed my mind?” Draco whispers.

I frown but shake my head. “No. Because you’ll get me off anyway.”

“Yeah.” He keeps stroking me. His other hand finds mine and our fingers entwine and squeeze. 

Our lips meet, and my eyes open, locking with Draco’s gray eyes. He sighs and then smiles as he climbs over me, knees at my hips. Our hands lock together. We kiss again. He lowers his body and rocks against my body. We both moan.

Draco lies completely on top of me. I release one of his hands and put my arm around his body.

“I’m scared, Harry.”

“I know.”

“It’s like … I want you so much, but I don’t want to hate it.”

I smile and kiss his cheek, down his neck. He sighs and thrusts against my body. His hard cock slides over my stomach. He rises up enough to grip both of our erections.

I moan, eyes shutting tightly as he strokes slowly.

“I know you’d be happy with just this,” he says, lips against my chest now. “But I wouldn’t be. I want you. I want to be comfortable. We’re nineteen for Merlin’s sake and we have the lamest sex lives of any nineteen-year-old. I know that doesn’t matter,” he says when I open my mouth to say that, “It’s just … it’s one of those just jump in sort of things. I know I won’t hate it, I know every moment with you will be amazing, but … I …”

“I know, love,” I say and touch his face.

He leans into it and then turns his head to kiss my hand. “I think I need to get it over with. Get rid of the anticipation.”

I grip his hips and he lets me slide him back. He moans and suddenly pushes up, hands on my chest. My cock catches on his body and then slips back, between his cheeks. He gasps and rocks, and the slide is insane from all the lube.

“I-I’m about to come all over your ass,” I say, trying to think past my rising pleasure.

“Did you use the instant orgasm lube again?” he says, a drawl in his voice.

I smile and shake my head. “You’re just that fucking sexy.”

He smiles back and stops. He lowers his head, eyes shut and then reaches behind him. His fingers curl around my cock, lifting it, and his hips rise. He slides my cock up and down his cleft, and we both moan again while he teases us both. With a firm grip, he holds me steady against his entrance. My vision swims at the tight clench around my cock, and I hear his whimpers only though the haze as he slowly sits, taking most of me all the same time. He’s so tight and my fragile hold on my orgasm snaps and with only a single thrust into him, I’m coming hard and shouting his name.

He falls over me with a laugh and kisses my moans away. I try to recover, but he’s moving, riding me slow and the sensations on my sensitive cock are too much. I grab his hips, wanting to push him away. But he grabs my hands and our fingers entwine and he pins my hands above my head.

“You’ve had your pleasure, Potter. Now it’s my turn.”

I groan and lift my head for a kiss. He obliges and then moves faster, slamming his body down over and over. Part of me is worried about hurting him, after so long without sex, but his hard cock is bouncing while he rides me and his normally pale skin is pink with pleasure and need. His thighs shake, and his arms tremble.

I pull a hand away from his and wrap it around his body. Carefully, I lower him to the bed, to his back, and kneel between his legs. He whines and spreads his legs for me. I hold him with a hand behind his knee and push back into his body. His hands go above his head, fisting the blanket in a white-knuckled grip. He thrashes back and forth, whining my name as I thrust into him harder. 

The squelch of my cock in his body is obscene, almost dirty. His cock is pulsing precome all over his stomach. I wrap my hand around him and stroke, eyes on his face. I am looking for discomfort, but all I see is desperation and pleasure.

“H-harder,” he gasps, “harder!”

I shiver and slam into him harder. He throws his head back, crying out my name, and pumps heavy white strands of come all over his chest and stomach.

I gasp, almost collapsing as his entrance clenches around me. I slow, only enough to make sure that he’s all right.

He shakes his head. “No, no, more. Keep … more …”

I smile and press a kiss to his open mouth. “How much more?”

“Lots. A lot more.”

“I have no problem with that.”

“Sex fiend.”

“Yeah, pretty much. May I continue?”

“Gods, yes.”

I speed back up, capture his moans in a long series of kisses. It doesn’t take much longer for another orgasm to crash through us, but Draco is rarely satisfied so easily, and in my orgasmic daze, he pushes me over and I land on my back and he’s riding me again. I stare unabashedly at him, at his crazy hair, and the drops of sweat mixing with come and lube between us. I don’t think I’ll ever get to see him this unkempt and I smile, but he scowls at me like he knows what I’m thinking and I pull him down to me and kiss him hard, needy and full of love.

I lose track of how often our positions change, of how often he begs for more or cries out my name. I’m pretty sure I come five times, but even that is all in a blur of kisses and sweat and moans. Even as Draco’s body is spent beneath me, his tired eyes are asking for me to continue. I think I promise him more in the morning, but it is morning and the sky is gray with dawn.

“Sleep, Draco,” I whisper and kiss him softly. “Just sleep.”

“Can’t … don’t … more, please.”

I gather him against me, his back to my chest, my cock still buried in his body. He sags against me, arm reaching behind to hold me. I know he’ll be asleep in a moment, and when we wake up, I’m pretty sure he’ll deny begging me like he did.

I whisper an, “I love you,” into his neck, and his lips flutter in a smile. He’s too far asleep to return it, but I don’t need him to say it out loud all the time. His smile is enough. His smile is worth it all.


End file.
